


Thinking Out Loud

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mystery, Romance, Sexual Content, Substance Use (typical drinking)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-01 11:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13293567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Five years after sitting for her N.E.W.T. exams, Hermione finds herself in quite a new group of friends. She and Draco are set to compete against each other for the Wizarding War Orphans Charity, but darkness is beginning to rear its ugly head. What starts as an inconvenient poisoning that allows Draco and Hermione to hear each other’s thoughts, quickly turns into murder, kidnapping, and the rise of a new Dark Lord.*Slow to update / May 2018*





	1. Wedding of the Century

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t actively posted fanfic apart from exchanges on LiveJournal in a very, very long time, so this is exciting for me! Thank you for taking the time to read. I appreciate it! I also plan on updating regularly - every few days. 
> 
> A few notes about this story: There are multiple ships but Dramione is the intended limelight. I am picking and choosing which epilogue and Cursed Child canon that I prescribe to in this fic; EWE for the most part, though. CC for the post-Hogwarts, pre-epilogue life paths, too. If you’re here for strict canon following, definitely not going to be here. My ships throw that out the window pretty fast. XD 
> 
> There will be sexual scenes, a romantic relationship between two men, drinking, some darkness and violence, and minor character death(s). I won’t spoil when this stuff will occur, so if you don’t like any of that: run away, run away!

**Prologue: Wedding of the Century**

If there was one universal truth that Hermione could attest, with absolutely certainty, it was that Theodore Nott and Neville Longbottom could throw one hell of a wedding ceremony.

She’d barely set one heel into the grand ballroom and she was stunned. Not in the red-light-to-the-chest curse way that gave the MLE so much trouble these days, but the make-your-jaw-drop-and-heart-seize kind of way. High, cathedral ceilings that were bewitched to mimic the dark, velvet night sky. White porcelain floor that almost made the room look like a white sand beach at midnight. Twinkling fairy lights in the bunches of lilies at the end of every navy blue linen-covered rows of seats.

The boys had immaculate taste. And enough money to employ it.

Hermione searched for a seat at the front of the room, just shy of the marble arch where Theo and Neville would be married. When she caught sight of Harry’s unruly black hair, she rushed to his side and sat with a deep sigh. Harry nudged her shoulder with his and offered her a friendly smile and quiet hello.

“Sorry I’m late,” she whispered. Her eyes powered around. She hadn’t missed the vows, at least, but she was supposed to escort Harry on the way in. So that he could avoid-

“It’s okay, I found us a seat.” A simpering blonde leaned over Harry’s lap and smiled at Hermione. Fake smiled. As her hand rested on Harry’s thigh. Completely ignoring the blush on his face or the frown that tugged at his lips.

“Sorry,” Hermione said again to her best friend. Maybe best friend. She’d have to make it up to him somehow. Being accosted by a Skeeter, mother or daughter, was never fun.

“Where have you been?” He asked her while ignoring the woman practically sitting in his lap.

“Luna had an issue with her dress. Not flow-y enough.” She tried really hard not to roll her eyes, but softened her voice. “And Neville had a panic attack.”

“A panic… is he alright?” His green eyes were saucers as they searched her face for an answer. “Not cold feet before the Wedding Of The Century that he’s been banging on about for a year?”

Hermione laughed. “He started asking about the menu of all things. If salmon was too pretentious.”

“Of course it is!” The worry disappeared from his face and was replaced by a broad smile. “That’s exactly why they chose it.”

Before she could go on to explain that Neville was concerned about Theo’s family in attendance - distanced cousins who were proud members of the Sacred Twenty Eight - light piano music filtered into the ballroom. Every head in the room turned at the same time to the door where the grooms would enter. Appearing first were the best man and the best girl, arms looped together. The tall, lithe form of Draco Malfoy stood a head taller than his counterpart. He was dapper in a tailored black suit with silver waistcoat, his hair perfectly sculpted just above his ears. Hermione had fought him for weeks on the length of it; he finally caved and magicked off an inch. She beamed at him as pointedly ignored the willowy girl on his arm. Her hair, ironically, falling down to the top of her tailbone in a wavy cascade that covered the flow-y satin material of her silver dress. Luna was not one to conform, and so she waved and said hello to the witches and wizards closest to the aisle.

Hermione couldn’t help but snort, however quietly, as they passed by. It earned her a soft glare from Draco, whose lips twitched as he deposited Luna on her side of the marble arch. When he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, Hermione offered him a supportive smile and the barely perceptible headnod she received in return made her heart flutter.

Their friendship was everything to her these days. Strong and resilient. She relied on him for so much. And it was mutual. They found a cadence within each other, and while her other friends were positively brilliant, it was Draco who challenged her. She loved him for it.

Before she could dwell too long, the music grew louder.

Neville appeared in the doorframe, tall and handsome with his dark hair magicked to lose the natural curl around his ears. His suit was black except for the silver lapel on his chest. For all of his panicking before, no one could possibly tell. He wasn’t pale any longer, and his hands were steady as he pulled at the waist of his coat and took long, confident strides to the archway. When he passed Hermione, he winked. That’s when she noticed the pink tinge of his ears. The cur had either taken shots of firewhisky before walking down the aisle, or-

And then Theo entered the room. His black, silk tie was a mess. Practically unknotted. Face entirely flushed, though far more severe than Neville’s had been. Hermione glanced back to Neville and he offered her a sheepish smile and slight shrug.

The incorrigible gits. Couldn’t go five minutes without assaulting each other. Why their wedding would be any different…

And yet, she loved that about the couple. Their love for one another filled a room, quite literally, and the passion that they shared could be suffocating and unbearable if you found yourself lonely in their presence. They were truly the picture of forever. Hermione could already feel the tears burning at the corners of her eyes as she watched Theo approach Neville. The hard line of his lips broke slightly as his chest swelled with air.

Harry’s hand hit her bare arm and something tickled her elbow. She turned and reached for the handkerchief he was offering, placing a watery smile on her face.

She watched the handfasting ceremony through tears. Listened and choked up at the sacred vows that the two men promised each other; Theo’s voice characteristically husky, and Neville’s light and airy. Breathy sighs filled the room as the couple kissed, even after the cleric cleared her throat when they went at it a bit longer than necessary.

“It is my pleasure to introduce to you for the first time Misters Nott-Longbottom.”

The room broke out into thunderous applause. Hermione heard Ginny’s bellowing “whoop” a few seats away. Hermione placed two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly as Harry covered his ears. He hated when she did that.

As the crowd settled down, Theo, Neville, Luna, and Draco all raised their wands. Out of one: smoke that filled the hall. Out of the others: golden and black sparks shot into the air. And when the smoke cleared, the ballroom was transformed into a spacious reception area. The tables were covered in the same blue linen, and at their centers were fairy-lit bunches of lilies. A booth appeared at the far end of the room where music was playing loudly. The archway under which the men were married was transformed into a four-person table.

“Please find your table and enjoy your meals,” Theo addressed the crowd. “We have a night of endless magic ahead, but first we’ll party with you lot.”

Hermione chuckled. Of course Theo would be hasty to inform the room what their night was going to consist of. The only people who wouldn’t know that is anyone who hasn’t spent ten minutes with the pair.

Incorrigible.

Seeing as Hermione helped Luna and Draco with the seating chart, she had no trouble finding her table. The added bonus was that she was able to choose her dining partners. As they all meandered to their table, closest to the grooms, she grasped her name card and took a seat. The scrawling, silver script winked at her from its navy cardboard stock as she placed it far in front of her.

“Potter’s still stuck with the Skeeter woman,” a low voice rumbled in her ear.

Hermione pitched forward and laughed as she turned toward the voice. “Let me guess. She’s trying to get the scoop on the charity event next week? Who his date will be? Who he thinks will win?”

As Draco’s lean frame settled down in the chair next to her, he grabbed at his goblet of water.

“We know who will win. St. Mungo’s, of course.”

“Wrong, Malfoy.”

“Ohhh, we’re back to surnames again, Granger? Did I rub a nerve?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “The MLE have actual, trained wizards, you buffoon. How do you think your lot can win with glorified babysitters?”

He choked on his water, eyes sparkling from the burn. “Glorified babysitters? I’ll have you know that if it weren’t for us glorified babysitters, the MLE would never be bandaged up and returned to the field. And another thing, Grang-“

He stopped when her laughter roared. Then he glared at her.

“You’re so easy to rile, Draco, honestly.” Hermione grabbed a cocktail off of a floating tray and took a sip. “It’s going to be the best event we’ve done for the Wizarding War Orphan Charity. Good competition.”

Draco, who was now holding a glass of brown liquid, nodded his head. “And if you think I’m going to go easy on you just because you’re a girl…”

“Right. You’d sooner adopt Crookshanks.”

“Flea Trap? No, thank you.” Draco wrinkled his nose.

Hermione could never get a straight answer out of him, why he hated her cat so. She was interrupted before she could ask. Harry, Luna, Ginny, Blaise, Cormac, and Pansy made their way over in one eerily cohesive group. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for them to be together outside of work, but it didn’t ever stop Hermione’s fascination at the way things changed in the five years since finishing her N.E.W.Ts. In fact, if anyone would have told her she’d be sat next to Draco watching their friends get married, and that they’d be happy about it, she would have floo’d directly to hospital to be examined.

As it was, everything changed. Rivalries pittered out. Friendships, relationships even, blossomed. There was still tension, of course. Ron and Pansy at the epicenter of it, but even they agreed that it was far too tiring to continue with their adolescent codswallop.

“So, they definitely banged one out before the ceremony, then?” It was Cormac who broke the silence as everyone sat down. “I wonder if Nott always looks so serious after he-”

“Ugh! McClaggen, we could do without ever contemplating that bit of infor-” Ginny started, but Blaise interrupted her.

“Yes. Every time.”

The table erupted into various noises; disgust, laughter, snorts. Even Luna’s light, “Oh, I wonder if it hurts him?” made the table burst into more laughter.

“Believe me, love, it’s not pain he’s feeling,” Blaise informed her as he snatched an entire tray of floating drinks. Something hit the back of his head, and Hermione stifled a laugh in the back of her hand as she watched Theo picking up a spoon to chuck at Blaise.

“He’s just jealous that I got the bloke in the end,” Theo called to the table, a half-cheeky smile on his face. Hermione saw his hand enveloping Neville’s and grinned.

So. Many. Stories.

They really were an entirely different group of people now. Hermione remembered the scandal when Blaise, Theo, and Neville were found in the library. Even she couldn’t help but chuckle now when they mocked her affront back then.

Books. Her treasure. Utterly defiled.

“Yeah, yeah,” the dark-skinned man said as he downed one of the drinks from the tray. “Don’t worry, I have my eyes on something else now.” He made a show of a pair of breasts, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry.

Harry was bright red and shaking his head. Only Blaise could bring a room to complete embarrassment. But, Hermione quite liked him; unafraid to speak his mind, and unashamed to be himself. She understood why Draco had befriended him all those years ago. Would have been just the kick Draco needed up the backside.

“I didn’t know that you liked girls as well,” Luna stated matter-of-factly as she turned to Blaise. “I think you have a very nice femininity about you. Gentle. Like a Pygmy Puff.”

No one laughed harder than Draco. Full, belly-grabbing guffaw. And that’s when Hermione’s chest clenched. That sound, that uninhibited gesture. That’s what drew her into his friendship all those years ago. It was still, five years later, a brand new side to Draco. He reserved his sense of humor, guarding it for truly special moments. And that, in turn, made the moments he indulged so special.

“Merlin, woman, you need a cold shower?” Ginny looked as if she was stifling a giggle, but really she had directed a quiet jibe at Hermione.

Hermione sighed. Ginny knew everything. From the one kiss Hermione shared with Draco back when they sat for their exams, to the decision they made to remain friends and nothing more. And she knew that it killed Hermione, despite how good she was at hiding her attraction to him.

“It’s fine,” she lied in reply. “I have a date with Dean Thomas next week. I can still enjoy a bit of eye candy, right?”

Ginny didn’t believe it was that simple. The shaped, auburn brow raised over one eye said as much. But, she let it go as the laughter died away and Ron began passing out single shots of amber.

“Equivalent to scourgifying your brain, but more fun,” he explained as he set the final shot in front of Pansy. “To the groom and groom!”

The table repeated the words before they each tossed back their drinks. The sound of glass clinking down on the table was the ringing of the bell for the night to truly begin. It wasn’t long before the food came and went and the music turned to beats for dancing. Theo and Neville led the crowd in a choreographed number called The Broomstick Shuffle, which had most of the crowd swept off their feet in levitation at one point or another.

And then as the rhythm of the music slowed for the couples, only two people remained at their table. Draco and Hermione shared a silent cheers with their drinks and watched their friends twirl around and exchange partners here and there. She noticed that Harry didn’t seem to want to let Luna go to Blaise, and it made her smile. Those two were adorably hopeless for each other, but Luna was Luna and Harry was such a boy. She’d have to play matchmaker eventually, but as Draco reminded her all the time: Harry needed to grow a pair and work up his courage. And then he’d make a joke about vanquishing The Dark Lord but not being able to ask a Lovegood to coffee.

“Hermione?” Draco’s lips were at her ear and his hand was warming a small spot at the base of her back.

“Hm?” She turned her head, putting his mouth to her cheek.

“I said, come dance with me.”

Butterflies erupted in her belly as she took his hand. He pulled her close, wrapped his hands around her waist, and led them through a sweet melody she’d never heard before. As they rotated slowly in place, Ron caught her eye. He smiled and made a gesture as if telling her to lay her head on Draco’s shoulder, but she shook her head. No, she couldn’t let this be more than what it was: two friends sharing a dance at a wedding. Ron rolled his eyes and put his attention back on Astoria Greengrass’s waist.

“Hermione? Merlin, love, where are you tonight?” Draco pulled away and peered down at her curiously.

“Must be the whisky,” she told him softly. “What were you saying?”

“You keep moving your fingers in my hair like that and we’re going to need to find a coat closet to relieve some tension.” He grinned down at her with those ridiculous grey eyes.

Her fingers stopped moving immediately and she slapped him lightly on the back of the head.

“You git.”

After that, their dance ended and Hermione found herself alone at the table watching everyone pick up speed on the dance floor. Her fork picked at cake while she smiled after her friends. She didn’t mind the time to herself. She had so little of it these days.

Okay, so maybe not everything had changed since Hogwarts.


	2. Crushes and Toxic Plants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A toxic plant is confiscated and dissected. Meanwhile, Hermione discusses an old Hogwarts crush with Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the prologue set this story nicely. I didn't want to spend too much time on how the relationship dynamics have grown and changed, since the plot of the story is much more fun than that long exposition. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :) I hope you enjoy!

**Crushes and Toxic Plants**

 

“I know you aren’t a herbologist, Hermione, but since my current go-to herbologist is currently on his honeymoon with explicit orders not to contact him upon pain of death, you’re really the best we have to classify this plant.”

Harry was pacing behind his desk, pausing here and there to stare into her eyes while pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. Dramatic flair that he’d gotten used to; made him feel that whatever he was saying was important because then he’d stare at her with those green eyes that made Hermione feel transparent. She squirmed under the intense attention and swatted a few rogue curls away from her face. It felt as if she was being reprimanded, which was ludicrous considering she didn’t report to Harry. Their units were separate in the MLE. He was an Auror. She spent her time fighting for equal rights. Yin and yang, they were, and far removed from one another’s work.

Until now.

Harry pleaded with her to take the case. To research the plant they’d confiscated earlier that morning. She was entirely uninterested. Classifying dangerous plants wasn’t as interesting as freeing enslaved house elves or emancipating centaurs from Ministry regulations. No, Harry was yapping at the wrong girl. She didn’t care.

“I have a herd of centaurs who are plotting the downfall of the Ministry in Croatia. Dean found sixty enslaved gnomes in a garden in Turkey. And the merpeople at Hogwarts are petitioning for control of the Black Lake.” Hermione sighed and shook her head. “I don’t have time for this, Harry.”

“It’s one plant,” he pleaded and finally sat down. His fingers steepled together and his chin rested atop them.

“It’ll take you one, maybe two days. You’re a competent witch. It might even take you twenty minutes.” He had the nerve to smile at her.

“Harry…” his name fell like frustration from her lips. “Ugh. You do know that I already work enough hours for two people?”

He nodded.

“And that I have absolutely no interest in this bloody plant at all.”

He nodded again.

“And you’ll be my scapegoat for any future news articles that Rita and her vapid daughter try to make after the charity event next week.”

“Hey, no, that’s not fair,” he argued urgently. His lips were pulled into a tense frown. “It took days for the Auror office to fend off the women who read the article about my dancing at Neville’s wedding.”

“And,” she added as if she hadn’t heard anything he said. “The next time you go into the field for a Creatures Rights issue, you’ll get clearance for me to tag along.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Harry pointed at her, though it was the most half-hearted scolding she’d ever received from him.

Her smile widened. “Is that a yes?”

“If... _if_ I agree to your terms, you’ll work this without complaint?”

Hermione jumped up and stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

Harry’s wary gaze lowered to her hand and he grasped it just as tentatively. “I’m going to regret ever asking you, aren’t I?”

“Indubitably.” One stiff nod and a belying smile later, and Hermione was officially Chief Herbologist in the case of Gregory Goyle and the Mysterious Toxic Plant.

Honestly, it would take her a couple of hours and a trip to Draco’s alchemy lab to solve the mystery of the plant’s origins and why it was being sold on the black market for hundreds of galleons. And if she’d known off the bat that she could get Harry to agree to take her into the field so easily, she would have led with that in the first ten minutes of their conversation instead of waiting for hour two.

When she reached her cubicle, Hermione prodded the miniature fire grate on her desk and lit the green flames with her wand tip. She waited patiently until a blond head was staring at her from the flames and smiled.

“Do you have free time this afternoon?” She wasted no time. Her face was all business.

 “I’m working the late shift tonight. Can you make it after visiting hours are over?” Draco glanced around her cubicle. It wasn’t a new sight for him, but he still held a lot of disdain for the Ministry. It showed in his face as his nose lifted slightly.

 “It’s work related. I can come now?”

“You haven’t been practicing transfiguring seashells into waterproof blankets for the merfolk again, have you? Because last time, it took twelve hours to clear all the sand out of-”

“No, no,” she laughed. “Nothing like that. Harry’s given me a case. Needs help classifying a plant, but I can’t do that without a lab. Neville’s is locked and I haven’t stocked my potions lab since you told me my veritaserum was a mangled concoction of-”

“You’re actually quite bad at potions,” he agreed with a jerk of his head. He thought for a moment and then met her eyes. “Yes, okay, come now. I have a break soon.”

If he thought it was strange that she was working for Harry, Draco didn’t let it show. Instead, he cut off their connection on the Insta-Floo with a ‘pop’.

Hermione grinned. He hated all the small talk that came with the Insta-Floo. He’d told her every time she contacted him in it. ‘What’s wrong with good old fashioned owling?’ And ‘If you want to go out tonight, just come ask me.’ And ‘Incessant prattling on about the sanctity of bonding among goblins is not why Pansy and Ron invented these damn miniature floo grates, so shut up and get to your point.’

This conversation was actually quite pleasant in comparison.

Ten minutes later, Hermione was wandering the halls of St. Mungo’s Hospital, past the potted plants of the welcome center and up towards the Janus Thickey Ward where Draco spent most of his time. She knew most of the faces that worked the different wards of the hospital and stopped through the halls to say hello and chit chat. It wasn’t until Draco found her talking to the Head of Magical Bugs and Diseases, that she finally made her way to his small quarters. And it wasn’t really of her own accord; Draco gripped her elbow and hauled her through two more floors with his long legs leading the way in front of her.

“I’ve been waiting for you for twenty minutes.” Draco sat down at his desk and magicked a chair so that Hermione could sit across from him. He looked really cross. His eyes were doing that severely narrowed thing he reserved for his annoyance. “I thought you had a job to do?”

“It’s been ages since I’ve been to hospital, Draco. I had to stop and say hi to some people. Important people. A lot of them have healed me, you know?”

It was true. She was constantly brought in for dangers involving different humanoid species, and sometimes even wizards and witches who weren’t pleased with her advancement of ‘near-human’ species. Didn’t stop her though. Draco said she had a death wish. Hermione liked to think of it as compassionate. They’d never agree.

“So, what is that you need from me?” He leaned back in his chair, fingers picking at the loose threads of string on the stitching of the leather. “You said Harry gave you a case? That’s rather odd, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes. But with Neville gone, he doesn’t have anyone reliable to help him with herbology.”

She pulled the small plant from her extendable bag and set it on the table in front of Draco. It was a short, round green cactus-esque plant. It didn’t sit in water, but in a pool of dark liquid. Hermione wasn’t sure what it was, but she refused to touch it. Draco examined it closely, finally interested in her reason for rushing to speak with him. He reached out to the spines on the plant and let his hand rest an inch away.

“It’s warm?” He seemed surprised, but that wasn’t shocked because he wasn’t any better at magical plants than Hermione. Probably Harry just knew she’d do the actual research; it was her favorite pastime, after all.

“Yes. And, it smells funny,” she added clinically.

“I don’t suppose it’s in any regular texts?” He already knew the answer, of course, so he didn’t bother to allow her to respond. “Seems we’re going to need to dissect it and try to classify based on its properties. I don’t see any apparent seedlings.”

“Well that’s where it gets weird.” Hermione pulled her wand from her holster and prodded the plant with a simple slicing hex. Nothing happened. “Regular spellwork doesn’t open it.”

“Maybe it’s solid?” He probably didn’t mean to sound so condescending, but alas, it was Draco and was second nature for him.

“Mmm.” Hermione used her wand to knock on a smooth patch of the plant. Clearly hollow.

“So, we have a plant that looks like a cactus, nourishes from a pool of black potion, and gives off radiating heat.” Hermione nodded. All deductions she’d already made. “Clearly it’s a dark object, then.”

Now that they were both up to date on the alignment of the plant in question - neutral evil - Hermione sat straighter and caught Draco’s gaze. “We need to find out what we can pierce it with. I want to sample the spines, the flesh, and perhaps whatever is inside of it. And the potion. Which is where you come in.” 

“Oh, I have a purpose in all of this finally?” He was smiling despite his words. “And I was beginning to think that you only wanted to see me to show off how clever you are.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. He was truly a sarcastic sod, and that would never change.

“Well? Will you help me?” She forced her lips straight and her brown eyes wide. Going for an innocent puppy-dog appearance.

Draco snorted. “Of course. What do I get out of it?”

“Harry’s agreed to take the heat off of one news article.” Hermione grinned. “I’m thinking the charity event; whoever loses can blame The Boy Who Lived.”

“You’re quite devious. He’s your best friend, you know.” There were no heat to his words at all. In fact, he seemed quite impressed if his smile was anything to go by.

“Best friend is such a teenage term. I prefer: friend whom can be used for his fame when suitable for the rest of the peasants he ropes into dull tasks.”

“He must have made you mad today.” He tilted his head to watch her closely. “You’re never quite so… flippant about his fame or his friendship. Usually you weep about how unfair it is that he was thrust into such an awful life.”

“I don’t weep.” The men in her life were seriously ticking her off. “I’m merely using certain things to my advantage. Did I mention that I’m applying for the Deputy Head of the MLE position?”

Draco balked.

No, she hadn’t mentioned it. To anyone. Hermione knew that she was expected to champion for the rights of the downtrodden for the rest of her career. And she meant to. But, it would be much more conducive to do so from a position that demanded respect, and perhaps the ear of government. She was making her dash toward Minister for Magic. Long way off, of course, but she was young enough to start now and get there before she was old and codgerly.

“You want to be the Minister?” He was very careful with every mannerism. “Minister of Magic. Of the United Kingdom?”

“Do you think I couldn’t do it?” The way that he was questioning her, Hermione was beginning to feel as if he thought she couldn’t do it.

“Bloody hell, Hermione. If anyone could be Minister one day, it’s you, love.”

She beamed at him.

Draco grabbed the plant, stood from his chair, and left his office. It took Hermione half a second to trail him. She was used to him doing things like that. He’d decide something in his head and then follow through, but wouldn’t tell anyone until they eventually caught up with his train of thought. It was endearing in a way. To no one else except Hermione.

She followed him into a very large room that was lined with various vials and cauldrons. At the entrance of the room, it was chilly but as she walked further in, it was humid. This was about the time in a potions lab that her hair became an unruly mess. She knew it happened when Draco spun around and shook his head.

“You know, you’re a witch. You could just straighten it and magic it to stay that way.” He pointed his wand at her head and put her hair into a stasis spell so that it didn’t continue to grow. She glared at him in return.

“I’m not going to magic my hair to make you feel better. It’s fine. It has character.” Hermione scooted herself around the table that Draco had placed the plant atop. “Besides, it’s not like you haven’t had your share of bad hair days.”

“My hair is quite dashing, actually.” He wasn’t even looking at her anymore. His eyes were on the plant. “The only time it’s mussed up is after a particularly good frolic in-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. You’re pretty.” Hermione waved at him to stop talking and get on with their task at hand.

“Damn right.” His smile teased one out of Hermione and she rolled her eyes because she just couldn’t help herself. “Most plants that don’t respond to spellwork will respond to silver. I’ll take a vial of the potion from its base and you cut a spine out of its flesh.”

They worked extremely well together, and had since they had taken their N.E.W.T.s at Hogwarts. It was a strange time for Hermione, finally being alone at school and able to properly apply herself. No after-hours snooping, no hunting for dark objects, no mystery solving. She was free to apply herself completely to her studies, and she nailed it in the end. And Draco, fresh and cleared of all charges in the Wizarding War, had a lot to prove. It took months, a mandatory team project from Professor Slughorn, and several duels that landed each of them in hospital at one point or another, but once Hermione and Draco became friends it was apparent to anyone who saw them together that they were a force to be reckoned with.

As it turned out, the plant responded to silver and Hermione was able to gouge a chunk out of its flesh. She popped it into a jar and went to work slicking off a thick, woody spine. Draco, on the other hand, had gathered a large vial of the black potion and began to test it in his various colored concoctions. He was working on the third down the line - a pink mixture that Hermione recognized as aconite and glycerol, which was used to determine how the building blocks of the plants responded to different solutions down the line. She had to admire how clever he was, and determined to solve any problem in his path. That’s why she came straight to Draco. He was the best potions master in England with the best work ethic.

There was a knock on the door and Hermione turned to see a dark haired girl with a big, pleasant smile on her face. Flora Carrow. One of Draco’s many admirers and the biggest nuisance Hermione had ever known to grace a hospital. The girl was clumsy, but according to Draco she was also wicked with diagnosing dark magic. Probably because she was from a big fat death eater family.

And that wasn’t fair of her to say. Draco was raised by the same ilk and he was one of the most genuine people she knew. He wasn’t a dark wizard. He used the knowledge he gained in that dark period of his life and applied it to make people better. That’s probably the same mindset that Flora had as well. She immediately regretted her thoughts and instead offered Flora a smile in return.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, Healer Malfoy,” she said softly. “It’s just that Gilderoy has asked for you. He thinks that he might have an idea for your potion to restore his memories and he’s demanded your attention at once.”

Draco swirled around the liquid in his test tube for a moment before answering Flora. “Last week, Mister Lockhart also believed that he could cure his memory loss with a piece of spellotape and a chocolate frog.”

“Yes.” Flora bit her bottom lip and glanced to the floor. “It’s just that he likes your company, you know? He’s try to help.”

“Flora, please tell Lockhart that I will be in to see him after supper.” He sighed, shoulders rolling back to reduce the tension he felt. Hermione barely noticed until now how tired he looked. Like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“I will. Thank you, sir.” Flora bolted from the room before saying goodbye. Hermione wondered if it had anything to do with the current foul mood written all over Draco’s face.

“She’s… pushy?” Hermione offered, trying to supplement whatever thoughts Draco was having. Get him to talk about it, if he wanted.

“Flora means well,” he supplied in a gentle voice. “She knows that Lockhart is fond of me, and being trapped in that ward for as long as he has really endeared him to a lot of the healers here. He’s just… so bloody irritating. Always thinks he knows everything and actually tried to spellotape his memories back together. We caught him just before he scalped himself.”

Hermione grimaced. It was still hard for her to think of Gilderoy Lockhart in the permanent residents ward. She knew what he’d done all those years ago to Harry and Ron, but still, he was her actual first crush ever.

“Why are you blushing? I know gore doesn’t bother you.” Draco peered at her over one of his beakers.

“It’s just… I had a crush on him, you know?” Hermione’s voice was weak. Childish, even. She glanced down at the spine she was trying to carve and sighed. “It’s hard to imagine him so… helpless.”

“He’s a complete git, Granger,” Draco was opening laughing at her. “None of those silly books he wrote was actually true. He removed memories from the wizards who’d actually performed those feats. The man is a danger to the world, whether he has his entire faculties or not.”

“Not everyone who takes memories is a monster, Draco.” She whispered it.

The words hurt her down to her soul. While her parents were fully restored to their former selves and Hermione enjoyed a good relationship with them, they were still very jumpy whenever she’d pull her wand out to help them with mundane muggle things. It cut at her heart every single time.

“Hey.” Draco came over to her after setting down the potion and he put a hand on her shoulder to soothe her. “I didn’t mean to imply-”

“You didn’t.” She waved him off. “I’m just being sensitive and stupid. Probably left over feelings for that git.”

He squeezed her shoulder and Hermione had to stop herself from leaning into his body. The warmth radiating from him was calling out to her. It’d been so long since she let herself want him, that for a moment she was about to wrap her arms around him and take the comfort he was offering.

“Looks like it’s hanging on by a thread now.”

She glanced up at his face, thinking that he could read her thoughts. He wasn’t looking at her, though. His gaze was at the spine on the plant. She’d almost gotten it out. Just a small piece to really yank from the flesh. He reached forward and plucked it with his gloved fingers. They were both instantly doused in thick, blue liquid that carried a faintly sweet smell. Hermione spluttered and jumped away from Draco as she flung the liquid off of her face. Draco was doing the exact same next to her, but with more vehement cursing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed. His robes were being shed, his shoes kicked off as he made his way toward his wand and began drenching himself in water. Hermione followed suit.

On the bright side, Hermione thought as her racing thoughts about death and torture began to abate, she wasn’t currently dead or being tortured. The blue liquid inside of the cactus-plant seemed rather innocuous, which was the best news she’d had all day. When she glanced to Draco and saw him stripped down to his pants, she absolutely lost it and began to laugh. He glared at her.

“I’ll not be broken out in boils or lose a bollock for Potter’s newest case,” he growled while he dried himself off with a towel.

“It doesn’t appear to be bad, Draco. It’s harmless. Look.” She twirled to show him no harm done, though she wasn’t in any sort of near-naked state as he was. “I don’t feel any different, and clearly it isn’t meant to poison.”

This pacified him only slightly.

“You’d do well to get home and shower. Maybe see Flora on your way out and-”

Her face must have given away her thoughts about Flora, because as soon as he said her name, Hermione couldn’t help but silently scoff. She was a smart witch. She could take care of a harmless plant liquid.

“I only meant, just in case it’s something more-”

_Flora can take her healing and shove-_

“What?” Draco’s eyes were wide. Clearly he could tell by her expression that she wasn’t really interested in anything that Flora had to offer.

 "It’s nothing against her, Draco, it’s just that I can take care of this myself.”

_And I really don’t like her._

“What did she ever do to you?”

The two finally looked at each other. They were only a foot apart, having moved closer to one another while arguing about whether Flora should help or not. It wasn’t Draco’s proximity that frightened her, it was that his mouth didn’t move when he asked her the question. She tilted her head. Maybe she only wanted the opportunity to answer the question. Her brain just made the question up, obviously.

“I didn’t ask you anything,” Draco whispered.

“I didn’t say you did,” she responded equally as quiet.

“But…” Draco was pale, his lips barely moving as the words left him. “I’m pretty sure you _thought_ I did.”

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide. Her brain moved faster than she could keep track of the thoughts. And Draco’s eyes were intent on her as he leaned forward as if trying to figure it out. That’s when she finally registered one final, definite thought.

He could hear everything that she thought. And she could hear everything that he thought.

There was only one thing she could do to protect herself now.

Hermione ran.


	3. Thinking Out Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Hermione learns that Draco can hear her thoughts (and vice versa), she seeks the help of a healer friend, who cannot help. She avoids Draco for as long as possible, but with the big charity event coming up, there is only so long she can go without seeing him. Plus, maybe the plant’s effects wear off after a certain period of time? Only one way to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shamelessly named this chapter (and the story) after an Ed Sheeran song. Don’t judge me, I can’t help it. It’s clearly Ginger Magic. Mostly, though, because this story was born while I was listening (and singing at the top of my lungs) to this song. Anyway, my taste in music these days aside, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

  
**Thinking Out Loud**

There wasn’t enough wine in the entire world to drown out the newest fact of Hermione’s life. Draco could read her thoughts, very well did read her thoughts, and because that wasn’t a big enough kick in the pants, she could also read his. She wasn’t entirely sure how long this affliction would last, nor was she too keen on testing it out any time soon. And since the very best healers at Mungo’s couldn’t figure out why this had happened, there was really nothing else for Hermione to do except for hide away in her flat and drink wine while watching sappy black and white movies.

Like a normal person.

It took her three days to send a howler to Harry. Influenced, of course, by a much-too-big-for-her, but still completely obliterated, bottle of merlot. While she was screeching at the letter in a high pitched strangle, Crookshanks went into hiding. He didn’t come out until after the owl carrying the howler flew away. Even the owl had left so hastily that its treats were still sat on the table. And that was all the incentive that Crookshanks needed to come out of hiding: food.

It took her another day to actually answer the door for Harry. The sheepish grimace on his face prompted Hermione to brandish her wand threateningly and promise to ‘de-bowel him using magical spells that Voldemort only dreamed he was capable of mastering’. Four hours of him standing in her doorway, one hour of her chasing him around the flat in random bursts of anger, and thirty minutes of utter silence. Finally, Hermione poured them both a cup of coffee and let her forehead drop to thump against her thick, oak dinette set.

“Er…” As he started to finally say something after hours of remaining quiet, Hermione turned her face so that she was looking at Harry. Her cheek was now pressed against the wood.

“Listen, Hermione, I, er… I know that it’s a tad unfort-”

Her head snapped up. Harry glanced down to her wand hand and rubbed the back of his neck warily.

“What I mean to say is that I’m sorry and I’m a knobhead for twisting your arm into working this case for me.” As an afterthought, he raised his lips into a forced smile.

“The Worst Knobhead,” she corrected. “Your official title.”

“Yeah.” Harry sipped his coffee and winced. Probably still scalding from the extra heating enchantments Hermione had on her coffee pot. Hermione didn’t feel guilty. “Even though I completely agree that I’m a total wanker and a rubbish best friend…”

She could feel that this was going in a direction that she didn’t like. He had that distinctly Harry look about him. He was preparing to use his green soul-searching eyes on her. Hermione tried to ignore that look, but rolled her eyes as he used his hand to force her gaze in his direction.

“I still need you on the case.”

Hermione huffed through her nose. Her eyes were slits. She didn’t want anything to do with the plant that induced a state of invaded privacy. Nor did she want to be near Draco. Merlin, if he could hear her thoughts - even the ones she kept in a steel lockbox in the back of her mind - she’d probably lose him as a friend. They were clear about what their friendship entailed, and it wasn’t the mess of feelings that Hermione was harboring for him for five years.

“And we have the charity event on Saturday.”

Hermione’s eyes softened. She’d worked so hard to take part in the event. It was a Battle of Wits between the Ministry and the hospital. It was going to be so much fun. But, no, no, no, no. Draco would be there. And they’d be facing off against each other. And he’d hear everything. It would be unfair. They could cheat. It was against the rules, and as such, Hermione Granger wouldn’t stand for -

“You’ve got that look in your eyes like I’m trying to make you break a dozen school rules.” Harry read her clearly, and for a moment she thought maybe the poison allowed everyone to read her mind. But then he added, “You used to be so scandalized that we could even propose to attempt to belittle the magic of Hogwarts’ laundry list of rules. You look like that now, all wide-eyed and flushed, and… murderous.”

Hermione groaned and covered her face with her hands. This was total bollocks.

“Teddy Lupin,” Harry whispered. “Do it for my Teddy, will you?”

“That’s not even close to being a fair argument, Harry Potter.” Hermione felt woozy at the mention of Teddy. Her favorite little almost-nephew. “You know I adore that boy.”

“And he was left without parents, which is exactly what this charity is raising money and awareness for. We can’t not participate just because you’re… compromised.”

“Compromised? Really, of all the words. How about violated. Ashamed. Disgusted. Taken advantage of in the most horrendous and evil way?” Hermione slammed her hand down on the table and shook the coffee cups.

“But you’ll do it?” Harry pressed on, and did that stupid thing with his glasses to the bridge of his nose again. “For Teddy?”

“Yes.” She agreed after several quiet minutes. “For Teddy and definitely not for my best friend, who, by the way, should be showing me the utmost sympathy given I spent almost an entire decade of my life devoted to him.”

“You can’t just use that every time I make you mad.” Harry rolled his eyes.

Right, she did use it often. The last time was when he tried to eat the last piece of cake at Ron’s birthday party.

“Yes I can. Almost a decade, Harry!”

He smiled at her, clearly proud of himself for something. The bespectacled plonker.

“Now that you’ve agreed, I have one more minor suggestion.” He was tentative again, staring at a spot just above her shoulder and not quite meeting her eyes. Not like Harry at all, which meant that this was going to be very bad. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see Draco for the first time in competition on Saturday. So, I’ve arranged a night out tomorrow with the gang.”

Her screech would have woken a hibernating sasquatch in Alaska. “You what?”

She chased him out of her flat with a broomstick and the business end of a curse-happy wand.

Still, the next night, she was dragged out of the house by Ginny. Ginny was much harder to push around than Harry, which was frustrating because once the redhead had coerced Hermione into a modest sweater-jeans combo and tamed her wild hair into more of a semi-wild plaited do, there was really no way that Hermione could convince Ginny that she wasn’t well enough to be drinking at the pub. She was being pushed through the door of The Griffon by a very handsy and freakishly strong Weasley before she could even give her sob story about her current predicament. Not that Ginny had minded the first three times that Hermione had tried to appeal to the Evil Heart of a Ginger.

On the bright side, the pub was filled with loud music and constant chatter. She didn’t have a lot of experience with the art of reading people's’ thoughts, but figured that it had to be harder in a place that lacked the ability to concentrate. The second best thing to happen to her that night was arriving before Draco. She was forced into a seat between Luna and Ron, which wasn’t the most uncomfortable place to be. She could have sat between Pansy and Blaise, which would have been as close to being groped by both sexes at the same time as Hermione was willing to get.

Ron didn’t really seem to mind Pansy’s wandering hands, however.

“I always thought you and Draco came together to these sort of things,” Luna informed her in a bored sort of curiosity. “Are you having a lover’s spat?”

Hermione floated four single glasses filled with Morgana-knew-what and proceeded to partake rather than bother to entertain Luna’s theory. Ron, however, had no problem sticking his Evil Ginger Mouth into the conversation.

“He wishes they were lovers.” And he laughed, glanced at Hermione like he was super proud of himself for that joke.

Hermione grimaced and downed another shot.

The second that his blonde locks and long, pale face appeared in the door, Hermione poured one of the shots into another shot and did a two in one. No one noticed when she dribbled a small amount down her chin and developed a deep, burning cough.

Bugger.

Harry, The Boy Who Lived But Perhaps Didn’t Have a Future Title That Would Be As Optimistic, walked with Draco to the secluded table the group reserved in the back. It was closest to the Gnome Dart board and was their unofficial table at The Griffon. If it was saying anything, Draco appeared just as apprehensive, but far less flushed from firewhisky, as Hermione. There was a little relief. Perhaps he had the antidote. Or maybe he knew that it wore off already.

“Oi, oi, there’s the lad!” Blaise stood from the table and pulled Draco into some strange half handshake, half hug. Hermione didn’t understand man culture.

“Evening,” he greeted everyone while his eyes landed on hers. "I wonder if we might be able to talk before you're so far into the night that you won't remember a thing I've said."

No,  she definitely wanted to drink more first. Numb those pesky thoughts down to vague passersby in a blur of inebriated madness. There was no need for Draco to hear some of the more private conversations that she held with herself. Those were personal. Hers, and no one else's. Hermione gnawed on her lip as she watched a devilish smirk appear across his face. And as sanctimonious as she might be about her own privacy, she was searching, probing even, for some thought in his head that might put her at ease.

She heard nothing.

As her brows furrowed, Draco lifted one brow and deepened that infuriating smirk of his. It didn't make sense. Perhaps God had mercy on her after all, and this whole business was done. If she couldn't hear him, then of course he couldn't hear her either. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought.

Several beats passed and save for the steady thrum of music, it was blissfully quiet at their table. It wasn't until Hermione finally broke eye contact with Draco that she realized most eyes were nervously darting back and forth between the two of them. Their arguments - disagreements, Hermione reminded herself - were nothing short of legendary among the group anyway. They were both wickedly stubborn people with differing opinions on all sorts of things.

Draco snorted through his nose and Hermione's eyes shot to him, narrowed. He  didn't even try to hide his amusement at her discomfort. Insufferable sod, he was. She pushed her chair back and flung herself from the seat, no grace to her movements, and knocked her elbow against the side of Ron's head. It earned her a merry "oi" from him, obviously far too gone from the firewhiskey and Pansy's cooing in his ear. Good, he deserved it a knock upside the head for fawning over Pansy while she was clearly distressed.

Draco put his hand to her back to guide her away from their friends, who immediately broke out into loud whispers.

"Pansy would be good for Weaslebee, you know?" His breath fanned against her hair as they pushed through the pub's front door and into the cool night.

"You _can_ still hear my thoughts then?" Hermione rushed away from the heat of his body and clasped her arms together over her chest. "Why can't I hear you?"

Draco chuckled. "You're a witch and you didn't think to use Occlumency against me? You're supposed to be the Brightest of the Age."

Hermione blanched. Of course, Draco would have no issue using Occlumency against her. She'd never know what he was thinking; he was so skilled that McGonagall had asked him to teach an extra credit course at Hogwarts on the uses of Occlumency and Legillimency to N.E.W.T. students. Big fat know-it-all.

This time, Draco didn't hold back his laughter. It burst forth from him in such candid lightheartedness that Hermione eyed him warily and tried to close out her thoughts to him. It was no use, though. She wasn't very good at it and when she discovered that she wasn't very good at it, she turned her sights to more important things like _actual_ defense against the dark arts. Occlumency was something you'd need to use only if you were trying to hide something from a dark wizard or captured. She never intended to be either, so it was a useless skill.

Until now.

"Hermione."

She didn't register his voice.

And how on earth did he know that Occlumency would work? Did that mean that he wasn't working on an antidote? Because, as a healer and potion master, it was certainly in his wheelhouse of things he'd be able to do far better than her. Also infuriating, because that list was growing the longer the two knew each other, and it wasn't something she could grow accustomed to. She'd always been the best at everything.

"Hermione..."

So, this poison or toxin or whatever it was that had destroyed her right to privacy _also_ brought with it the realization that there was even more that Draco could do that she couldn't. And that brought with it those same inferior feelings she held her first year of Hogwarts when she was nothing but a Muggleborn girl in a sea of wizards who already knew how to harness and control their powers enough to keep from floating Susie Parkes onto the top of the school in a fit of rage over a spelling test score.

It wasn't her name that finally pulled Hermione from her spiraling thoughts, but Draco's hands on her shoulders giving her a slight shake. Until that moment, she wasn't even aware that she had closed her eyes while trying to sort through her chaotic thoughts. When she opened her eyes, she was met with the amused, cool grey stare that she'd come to find so much strength in. She sighed and tried to reign in her growing anxiety.

"There you are," he breathed. "I was beginning to think you'd get lost in a self-deprecating pit of despair. Who is Susie Parkes?"

"A muggle I went to school with before Hogwarts. She was better at spelling than I was and she always paraded her perfect tests in front of the class and one day I snapped and..." Hermione took a deep breath and tried to ignore the quirk of Draco's lips, because that wasn't where she was supposed to be looking. "I levitated her onto the school roof and..."

Draco, to his benefit, was trying to hold back laughter. His shoulders shook with it. "Who would have thought that the Great Hermione Granger, War Heroine and Golden Girl, was a bully?"

Hermione stamped her foot and glared at him. "I was _not_ a bully. I just... lost control."

"You levitated her to the roof and then what?" His eyes were shining. He was too amused.

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. Nope. He already knew. He could read her thoughts, after all.

"Made all of her hair fall out." Draco let a laugh escape. "Tsk, tsk, love. That's exactly what a bully would do."

"I didn't do it on purpose," she argued. "That's the difference. I didn't mean to make her hair fall out. It just... happened. And it was only a few weeks later that I got my letter from Hogwarts and then I never saw her again, so it's not like I was tormenting her for years."

The unspoken words made Draco's face fall, and Hermione felt immediately guilty. Her expression softened and she reached out to his face. Her cool fingers against the warmth of his jaw. His eyes were closed and she wished that she could read his thoughts. He always closed off when he was reminded of who he'd been during the war, and she never wanted to put him into that mindset.

They were past it.

She was past it.

"Draco," she whispered softly.

The wind picked up around them and sprinkles began to fall from the sky. There were patrons entering the pub, but Hermione couldn't bother paying them any attention. The rhythm of the music inside was pulsing through its walls and she tried to make herself breathe along with the beat so that she wouldn't hold her breath and hyperventilate. This night was a mistake; she couldn't be around him. Not like this, not when she was so vulnerable with her thoughts on display.

"I thought reading your thoughts might be fun," he admitted quietly. "It's not fun when it makes me feel like this, like I'm still..."

"You're not still that boy from school, Draco Malfoy!" The words sped so quickly from her mouth that she didn't have a chance to think over them. It was so candid, so true, so sure, that her tone didn't allow him to argue. 

One side of his lip lifted, a crooked and sardonic smile that made her sad and made her stomach flutter. He really had no idea how attractive he was, even when there was sadness so firmly planted in every expression of his face.

_Your hand is still on my face._

This time, his mouth didn't move. Was he allowing her to read his thoughts?

"No." The answer was final, and while he didn't sound pleased about it, he also didn't remove himself from her personal space. "And I'm very aware how attractive I am, thank you."

Hermione blushed and pulled her hand away, planting it firmly at her side so it didn't wander again of its own accord. Draco's fingers traveled from her shoulder and glided like a feather down to her hand and wrapped around it. This was uncharted territory; even the kiss they shared back during their N.E.W.T.s hadn't been so intimate. Their breaths were mingling together and the rain was falling harder and the music was thrumming between them. It was too much for her, and she couldn't shut off the disordered thoughts flying through her mind. It was dizzying, both Draco and the flurry of thoughts.

"Stop thinking so damn much, witch."

Draco pressed his lips to hers, a soft and chaste kiss that was over before it really began. He stepped forward and caused Hermione to step back so that her body was pinned between Draco and the brick wall of the pub. Was it the whiskey, or was it getting warmer outside? Hermione opened her mouth to ask Draco what was happening and what this was, but before she could get a word out, his lips were over hers and his tongue slid against hers.

She tried so hard to blank her mind, make it unreadable, that she was missing the feelings of Draco's hand leaving hers to travel to her hip and hold her in place. The way that he pressed into her. His other hand curling into the brick next to her head.

The only things she did register was Draco forcing himself back, pulling the heat of his body away. His swollen, red lips parted with a light pant. His guarded eyes. The tingle of coolness where his hand had been against her hip.

"Have you two Avada'd each other yet?" Ginny's sudden voice interrupted the utter silence. Her cheery tone carried through the air, indicative of both minor deafness from the loud music and the booze she'd consumed. "Oh good, no casualties. Harry is antsy and Luna keeps going on about Humdingers playing a role in your inevitable double homicide."

Hermione released a deep breath and glanced to Draco whose eyes were firmly planted on the redhead. His face was blank as were his thoughts. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, cautioning her; he'd heard her thoughts, of course. Which, again, wasn't fair. What was he thinking after that kiss? Did he want to forget it happened?

A sharp nod of his head stopped everything thought she had.

"Well, come on, then," Ginny beckoned them inside. Hermione stepped forward without glancing again to Draco and followed Ginny inside. "I've asked them to play that Weird Sisters song that makes you do that thing with your hips. You still need to show me how you did that. I don't understand muggle dance. It's kind of sexy, when you think about it."

Ginny yammered on as she led them through the growing crowd and back to the table. The only two open seats at the table were next to each other between Harry and Ginny. Hermione eyed the open seats and took a deep breath. She could do this. She could sit next to Draco and pretend that he couldn't hear her thoughts and that the kiss never happened. Hell, it wouldn't be the first time.

"So, is it sorted? Do you know how to fix it?" Harry half-shouted into her ear as he leaned into her shoulder.

Hermione shook her head and pressed her lips together. Draco, however leaned across her other side and addressed Harry.

"I'm working on an antidote, but it will take time. The plant is a hybrid, something created by a wizard."

"Someone _created_ that plant?" Harry raised his brows high on his forehead before furrowing them. "Why, though? Legillimency and veritaserum would do exactly the same thing without having to wait for someone to crack the plant open."

Hermione leaned back as Draco overtook more of her personal space. She tried not to look at his profile, tried to ignore the way his jaw tightened and the barely-there pink tinge on his high cheekbones. The spicy scent of his cologne tickled her nose. Even the way his voice curled so eloquently around the words he spoke, bobbing his adam's apple just slightly in his throat.

Merlin, she needed another drink.

And before she could move, he pressed a firewhiskey into her hand without bothering to look up at her.

"It depends, Potter," Draco answered as if he hadn't a clue that Hermione was sat there watching his every movement. "Greg Goyle isn't smart enough to breed plants, I can tell you that with every confidence. Where did you say you apprehended him?"

"London, on his way to Knockturn." Harry and Draco were now inches apart over Hermione's lap, whispering. "The odd thing is, he seemed genuinely confused over our interest in the plant. Said that it was a gift, but backpeddled later on to say that he was selling it to a Hag who had requested it from his employer."

"Greg works for his father's company," Draco said. "They don't dabble in herbology."

"I know." Hermione watched Harry's eyes roll. "But he is sticking to the story and won't tell us anything more despite being threatened with Azkaban."

 _Potter still doesn't get dark wizards._ At the same time he thought it, he said, "There's a more powerful player, obviously. Greg probably wasn't told exactly what he was carting, and if they offered him anything of value, he'd do it with very few questions."

Hermione, however, listened to his thoughts. Was he allowing it? Or was it the firewhiskey?

_We need Potter to let me talk to Greg. Hermione. Hermione. Answer me, witch._

Hermione jumped at being _thought at_ directly. It was weird, but she tried to think of things like 'yes, okay' and 'shut up for a minute so that I can get a word in.' She knew he heard her when he snorted hot breath on her arm.

"Harry," she turned toward her friend and placed her hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. "You need to let Draco and I talk to Greg."

"I don't know how much good it will do." Harry's hand kneeded the back of his neck while his eyes flicked between the two sitting opposite him. "But if you think it will help you out of your current predicament, and solve the case..."

"I do." There was no hint that she really didn't believe it, even though she had no idea what good it would do if Goyle wasn't the actual suspect they wanted. She wanted to retch hearing herself think like an auror, though. Suspect and interrogation were things she wasn't interested in. Much like herbology.

 _Suave_ , Draco directed at her with a slight roll of his eyes. _I could have done that._

 _Well, you didn't._ And she stuck her tongue out at him.

Harry watched the silent exchange with a bewildered stare that made Hermione chuckle. He wasn't exactly clueless, but she sort of reveled in the idea that her best friend felt uncomfortable. He was always so certain of things. She really hoped that he knew this whole catastrophic situation was ultimately his fault for pressuring her into taking the case.

"Enough of this." Luna waved her hands in front of the three of them, breaking the air of calculation that had surrounded them. "Work on your own time. We came here to have a good time and you're ruining it."

That was all it took for Harry to leave their conversation. It took less than a minute for him to get up and dance (awkwardly) with Luna, and everyone except Draco and Hermione followed suit. Instead, they each took turns grabbing firewhiskey from passing trays and clinking them together.

They both thought, and Hermione had to laugh at how similar to each other they were, that a clouded mind was an incomprehensible mind. After the third drink, she was less coiled, not so focused on the things she didn't want Draco to hear. She turned her body toward him and put a hand on his knee.

"I don't want things to change between us." She was sure, strong. A little tipsy.

"As you've made abundantly clear for five years." Draco nodded his head and placed his hand atop hers. "I want to teach you Occlumency. At least a little bit, in case it takes a while to find an antidote."

"I think that's a good idea. I don't like it that you can hear my thoughts, Draco. It's indecent."

It wasn't indecent, of course. Her _thoughts_ about him tended to be, though. The proximity to him was making it very difficult for her to keep thoughts from turning to the heated kiss and the way his body took complete possession of hers. A shiver passed over her as she schooled her features.

"Indeed." The words were spoken through thin lips. He picked up her hand and placed it back on her own knee, and then pulled his hand away. "We'll start after the charity event tomorrow. I'll even promise not to listen to your thoughts during the competition. To keep it fair."

"You'd better." She gripped another glass and brought it to her lips. "If you cheat, it's forfeit."

"C'mon, Hermione, they're finally playing the song!" Ginny grabbed Hermione's hand, allowed her to finish the drink in her hand, and pulled her onto the dance floor between her and Blaise.

Hermione didn't glance back at Draco, but if she had, she would have noticed the way his eyes followed her every move, every sway of the hips, and every curve that she pressed into Blaise's body. She would have seen the way his hand shifted the belt of his trousers, the slightly quicker movements of his chest. And she might have been able to guess that Draco was having far too difficult a time remaining just friends that evening. 


	4. The Wizarding War Orphans Charity Event Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of two. The charity event begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and feedback on this story! I love seeing that you're enjoying it. :D This chapter got a little long on me, so I'm breaking it into two. We're heading into the thicker plot here soon, so I'm enjoying the lighter side of things in this chapter. I hope you do, too. XD

**Wizarding War Orphans Charity Event Part One**

 

Thank Merlin for whomever invented the Pepper-Up Potion.

Her pounding headache only lasted thirty minutes after waking up, fully clothed, on her sofa. The potion was a parting gift from Draco the night before and as he'd pressed it into her hand, he told her to her put it next to her wand so that she wouldn't forget. He said it wouldn't be fun to beat her at the charity event if she was already clobbered by a hangover.

She never appreciated him more than when she saw the vial next to her wand.

Except, when the memories of the night before flooded into her brain, Hermione was caught somewhere between embarrassment and dread at facing everyone today. The way she'd danced, the sheer amount of drunken admissions of love for her friends, and then that kiss with Draco that brought with it too many questions. What was he thinking, kissing her so brazenly? He was keen to remain friends - those were his words so many years ago - and then he'd gone and brought her unrequited feelings back to the forefront.

With a groan, she glanced at the clock. An hour to get ready. Forty five of which she spent under the steaming hot stream of the shower. The last fifteen, she reserved for tying her hair into a tight bun at the back of her head and throwing on whatever comfortable (yet ministry acceptable) slacks and jumper that she could find. She took one final second to once-over her reflection in the mirror (which only shook its head at her as she walked away) and found the apparation point just outside the visibility of her flat.

When Hermione touched down again, she was met with softness under her feet and an expanse of green fields all around her. The North York Moors had been almost entirely transformed with the agreement between the Muggle Prime Minister and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Where she landed was the line between the confundus charm that would repel muggles and the greeting area for spectators and competitors alike. It was unlike anything Hermione had ever seen, and that was including the Quidditch World Cup during the summer before her fourth year.

There was a lightness to this day, a fun thrum of energy in every direction. Pixies ran wild through the national forest. Owls hooted overhead. Even a cluster of gnomes were seen rushing through the foliage around the grounds. Hermione took her time getting to the competitors' tent, enjoying the spectacle that was unapologetically Wizarding Britain. Ministry and St. Mungo's flags were stretched out everywhere. Vendors set up tents to sell their goods. Even the newspaper columnists were enjoying the fanfare too much to snap photos as she meandered down the path toward her tent.

After stopping at a tent selling merchandise with Ministry swag, and buying a few magically enchanted buttons and a jersey, Hermione finally made it to the competitors' tent. All eyes were on her as she entered in a shirt with a big, golden M emblazoned on it, flickering with sparkles from its magic enchantments. She immediately searched out Harry and walked over to him with her chin in the air.

"To be quite honest, some of us weren't sure that you'd make it here today," he whispered as he caught her up in a hug. Harry's light chuckle rumbled in his chest. "We were making contingency plans, but I'm bloody glad to see you. I didn't want to do the puzzles. Kingsley has hinted that they're almost unsolvable."

"Heaven forbid you have to think harder than normal," she teased and pinched him on the side.

"Too right." He let go of her and gave her a genuine smile before leading her over to a small table. "This is where we sign up for events based on the skills test that the ministry put us through last month."

Hermione read through the list. Obstacles, charms, defense, healing, runes, arithmancy, dueling. Harry had already signed up for defense and dueling, which made a lot of sense when one considered his background. Ron signed up for obstacles, which she imagined would take place on a broom. A big no-thanks for Hermione. Percy was signed up for healing and an older witch named Mafalda Hopkirk was to be their arithmancy champion. Which left Hermione to runes and charms. She gave a confident nod and then snatched up the quill to jot down her name.

"The kickoff is in about twenty minutes. The Hospital has already given their list of competitors and it looks like Malfoy is clearing a lot of them, the arrogant arse."

Hermione forced a laugh. Of course he would. He felt like he still had a lot to prove to the wizarding world, and taking part in this - and winning - wouldn't hurt his chances.

"Cormac wanted obstacles." Ron's arms wound around Hermione's waist as he hauled her from her feet and twirled her around. "Don't suppose you could confund him again and make him believe he's actually from America? Get him out of our hair for a while?"

"Cormac doesn't even work for the ministry," Hermione laughed.

"Cormac thinks that it's too exclusive and should include the greater wizarding world," Ron told her with a shake of the head. "The bloke will do anything to show off in front of a crowd,  though."

"There he is!" A hard, shrill voice interrupted their fun, followed by the flash of a camera. "Miss Granger, Mister Weasley... Harry."

Rita's simpering smile was about as comforting as a brick to the face. Hermione told her so, which earned her a glare.

"A word for the Daily Prophet, kids? Golden Trio Unites to ensure no child is orphaned like our dear Harry Potter." Her quill began jotting down notes immediately. "His eyes are still swimming with the ghosts of his past. So much to prove, still."

It was a mark of their adulthood that, without saying a word, all three of them turned from Rita and walked out of the tent.

"That woman would make a kind grandmother swear," Ron whispered as they turned a corner towards the playing field.

"Her daughter is even worse," Harry added. "She drafted up an article to announce our courting. Courting!"

Hermione's carefree laughs died in her throat as she came face to face with Draco. She swallowed thickly and attempted to smile at him. He sneered at her, though Hermione couldn't find heat behind the look.

"Good luck today, Granger," he half-heartedly hissed. His heart just wasn't into being an obnoxious little brat anymore. Draco raised an eyebrow, as if Hermione had issued him a challenge. "I was always better at runes than you, remember."

She snorted. "You almost had a symbol for pumpkin pasties tattooed on your shoulder, Malfoy. I think I'll be okay."

Draco chuckled despite his facade. "This would be more fun for me if you'd smack me and run away like you used to."

Flushing red, Hermione shook her head. She couldn't believe that he could joke about such a scandal. As a non-violent person by nature, that moment in their past had shocked her, made her reevaluate how to handle anger. Of course, he'd deserved it, so she didn't dwell on it too long. But, she did vow to never resort to physical violence to get a point across.

"Not very fun at all, Frizzball," he goaded her.

"Better quit while you're ahead, Ferret Face," she responded quickly. For good measure, she thought, _even if you beat me at runes, Harry will kill you at defense._

_Not a chance, witch._

As they parted, neither of them were aware of Harry and Ron watching the exchange with mild amusement.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Ron's bemused tone broke through Hermione's flurry of giddy thoughts. "He didn't really mean those things?"

Harry nudged Hermione in the ribs with his elbow. "Of course not. I daresay he was flirting with our bookworm."

Hermione rolled her eyes and dared not entertain the idea. Just. Friends.

"He was just trying to get in my head. It won't work." The irony of the words hit her after they left her mouth.

"About that..." Harry had that Harry look about him again, like he wanted to say something important but was unsure how to approach it. His eyes always got wider when that was about to happen. "When I caught Draco earlier, he said he'd worked all night to separate the properties of that plant. He thinks he can make an antidote."

"Not that he needs one," Hermione spit out before thinking. When Harry and Ron didn't speak, she offered more, begrudgingly. "Occlumency. He's been able to keep his thoughts from me."

"Well, that's brilliant, that is," Ron said, clearly not understanding the big deal. "Just do that until you have the antidote."

"I...can't." The words didn't want to leave her. It was against her very nature to admit shortcomings, especially in comparison to Draco. They were very competitive people.

"Oh. Well," Ron patted her shoulder awkwardly and wasn't stealthy enough to hide his glance at Harry, pleading for help. "You'll think of something."

Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice rang through the large field, calling attention to the players and the various officials of both the ministry and the hospital.

"The Ministry of Magic and St. Mungo's Hospital for Maladies and Injuries welcomes all of our friends, families, patrons, and employees to another fantastic year to support the Wizarding War Orphans Charity."

  
Roars and claps filled the large space. Sparks flew from wands.

"Thus far, we have not only raised keen awareness for the orphans of a war that tore our world apart, but a hundred thousand galleons to donate to the newly founded Shacklebolt Orphanage For Wizards to be opened at the end of this month. You should be proud, my fellow wizards, very proud indeed."

More shouting and sparks. Someone had set off a Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes firework into the bright blue sky overhead. It pinwheeled around overhead for a solid minute before exploding into confetti that rained down on the excited crowd below.

"Now I am pleased to bring you our main event: The Battle of Wits. Our best and brightest veterans of the war will compete through a series of challenges that will earn them points for winning. At the end, we will have a duel between the most skilled wizards of both St. Mungo's and the ministry. The bets have been placed, and the loser of the competition will double the donation today!"

Hermione's eyes went wide. She knew that the ministry and the hospital had agreed to the terms, but she had no idea that they would need to double such a large amount. Her heart was fit to burst for the children this would benefit. Those who weren't as lucky as Teddy to have family left to care for them. Her eyes filled with tears as she clapped and cheered along with the rest of wizarding Britain.

Fifteen minutes later had Ron mounting a broom looking peaky as he faced the obstacles that he'd signed up for. Opposite him was Draco, and Hermione wasn't sure if there was an event he didn't sign up for. It was short work; Draco outmaneuvered Ron at every turn, and Ron didn't stand a chance as they both dove towards the ground in order to grab the wands that were magicked to stick out from two rocks. It all came down to wandwork on a broom, and while Ron was able to approach the cupboard holding his boggart faster than Draco, the latter was able to dispatch his boggart and earn the win for the hospital.

Half of the crowd broke into cheers. Those sporting Ministry swag groaned and boo'd, some even shouted the word "cheat" at Draco as he dismounted. None of it removed the carefree smile from his face,  though. Hermione couldn't help but clap for him. His eyes met hers and he offered her one of his proud smirks before being ushered into the hospital competitors' area.

"Sodding spiders. _Spiders_. It always comes down to those damn things, doesn't it?" Ron's hands were flying through his windswept hair and he was looking green with anxiety.

"I didn't know Malfoy was afraid of werewolves," Harry said to Hermione as he patted Ron's shoulder. "Makes sense why he was so nervous at Greyback's hearing."

"He doesn't talk about it," Hermione murmured.

In fact, it was one of many things that Draco wouldn't discuss. Every time she mentioned Remus and the sadness that she felt for Teddy being raised without his father, Draco would change the subject with a pale face. Hermione never pushed him, but she could imagine some of the horrors he may have borne witness to living in a manor with Fenrir Greyback.

"You're up, Hermione." Harry broke through her depressing thoughts and nudged her forward out of the small tent for competitors.

Charms. They were a specialty of hers, though it was such a broad topic that she wasn't sure what the event had in store for her. Her brain whizzed through all the various texts she'd read both at Hogwarts and for leisure, trying to catalogue her vast knowledge as quickly as possible. She even caught herself giving a practiced 'swish and flick' as she made her way onto the field.

To her surprise, it wasn't Draco that met her on the pitch. It was Flora Carrow, who offered her a genial smile and small wave. Hermione took a moment to appraise the witch, who appeared mousy and small, very slight of body with big, blue eyes. Hermione knew better than to judge a witch based on her appearance, though, so the fact that she was petite didn't bolster Hermione's confidence one bit. She waved back, perhaps less excitably than Flora.

"Ladies," Kingsley's voice bellowed and drew everyone's attention. "Your charms are well known throughout the country as some of the finest craft honed at Hogwarts and beyond. Today, your challenge is simple: a Patronus Charm Race."

  
Hermione beamed. This was one thing she'd known for ages and had practiced often. So, she’d never actually made her Patronus race, but she _did_ cast it quickly these days. She glanced around the space as the field transformed around her. The grass plains that spread out ahead of her was shifting rapidly into a natural maze. Hills rose higher than Hermione's level of vision, flowers bloomed in zig-zagging paths for a mile, and a small stream cut through the crowd and parted them down the middle. A large platform overlooking the field appeared before Hermione and Flora which  they both climbed to the raucous cheering of the crowd.

Even though she didn't like to parade her quasi-fame in the wizarding world, Hermione couldn't help the beaming smile on her face as she turned to the crowds on either side of her and waved. Flora followed her lead.

"At the sound of the horn, you will cast your charms and navigate through the maze," Kingsley's  booming voice silenced the crowd. "Your Patronuses will encounter all of the natural elements within this maze. If it loses corporeal form, you are allowed to recast once within the maze. If you lose your Patronus a second time, you lose. The first Patronus to pass through the finish line at the top of the hill wins!"

Hermione nodded and shoved down the uncertainty. She'd never quite held her Patronus through the elements, though she imagined that it would only take careful maneuvering in order to go around certain landscapes and challenges. She briefly wished that her Patronus was something more viable for this challenge, like a crow or a bat. And, while she knew her otter could navigate water and earth very well, Hermione couldn't predict what Patronus Flora had, or if she would hold a great advantage with having something that could fly or whiz through fire.

A deep breath hissed through her nose and she turned to Flora with a forced smile. Still didn't like the girl simply for her endearment to Draco. Ridiculous as it was.

"Good lu-," the words barely escaped her mouth before the resounding horn nearly deafened her.

Both girls bellowed, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" simultaneously.

Out of the tip of Hermione's wand burst forth a so-silver-it-was-almost-blue otter, a corporeal Patronus that indicated a keen sharpness with the charm. Pride swelled inside of her as the crowd roared and watched the otter sprint forward to the opening of the flower-lined maze. For a split second, Hermione glanced at the other girl's Patronus and relief flooded her when she saw that it wasn't a flying animal or something far more sinister (she would have guessed snake, because old habits where Slytherins were involved just couldn't be broken). Instead, she saw a stunning fox sniffing the ground as it dashed right alongside of Hermione's otter.

It didn't take long for Hermione's otter to run into its first challenge after coming to several impassable dead ends. The stream that separated the crowd glistened with the reflection of her otter before it dove into the water. If all of the obstacles are so easy, she thought, the winning this challenge would be a piece of cake. The tight smile on her face loosened as the spectators cheered, and she chanced another glance to Flora's fox as it hesitated in front of the lazy stream. She'd have a good head start now.

She wasn't as lucky when it rounded a corner and came across a patch of jagged earth that dipped low into the natural sea level of the field and was surrounded by towering walls of solid earth. A vast hole with very small grooves along the side. Otters weren't exactly known for their ability to fit into small spaces and so Hermione initially felt the tingling of defeat starting to prickle in her stomach. The otter's paws could fit in a single-file line around the gaping hole, if she was very careful and took the obstacle slowly.

The otter was a third of the way around the circumference of the jagged hole in the ground when Flora's fox approached the obstacle. Hermione assumed that the fox would use the opposite side of the hole to figure out its path, so she was shocked when the fox trotted up behind her otter. Hermione's eyes whipped to Flora, whose mousy face held a smirk while she refused to glance in Hermione's direction.

"You _cheat_!" As her Patronus was knocked sideways and down into the pit, Hermione narrowed her eyes and bellowed at the healer next to her. The vibrating magic from her wand stopped, and Hermione was forced to recast her Patronus. The crowd groaned and gasped collectively. Brightest of the Age was _losing._

"There is no rule to keep me from doing that," Flora told her as the smirk on her face grew. "You're just a sore loser."

The word 'loser' had an immediate effect on Hermione. She huffed and turned away from the petite brunette and forced her otter onward, quickly, through the stream and to the gaping earth where the fox was nowhere to be seen. Curses flew through Hermione's mind as she carefully plotted her otter's course around the hole, careful not to allow it to fall again. If it did, the challenge was forfeit and she would lose.

Not. Happening.

She vaguely acknowledged whooping cheers as her otter completed the obstacle. There was no time to bask in it, however, as she needed to catch up to the sly fox. It wasn't until near the end of the maze that the otter finally caught up to the fox. A wall of fire separated the two silvery animals from the finish line on the other side. The fox was pawing at the ground as Hermione heard a small growl from the girl to her right. It was comforting to know that they were both struggling with how to pass through fire.

A water charm wouldn't work because of the distance. Climbing the wall to the side wouldn't work because the flames hugged the walls on both sides. And she couldn't recast her Patronus, so Hermione only had one shot at this.

_Think, think, think._

Patronuses obviously couldn't _feel_ , she reasoned as she gnawed on her bottom lip. Patronuses couldn't feel. They couldn't feel. Oh, bugger all, _they couldn't feel._

A brilliant smile lit up the brunette's face as she prodded her wand forward as if to direct her patronus through the fire. A collective breath from the crowd made her nervous as the otter's nose pierced through the fire.

Flora gasped next to her and demanded, "What are you doing?" as if Hermione was a fool.

The crowd erupted in frantic cheering as the otter sped across the finish line. Hermione made it twirl prettily before cutting off her charm and then the otter disappeared. Flora, next to her, was seething. It was a simple mind game, one that she clearly didn't appreciate.

"Good show, Flora!" Hermione couldn't help rubbing it in as she held out her hand to the fuming girl. Flora ignored it and stalked off of the platform.

It didn't bother Hermione. Soon after she left the platform, she was enveloped in a small crowd of Ministry competitors. Harry whispered praises as he hugged her around the neck. Even Ron was spluttering through his delight at their win. Pride beamed from her as she hugged her teammates and when they walked her back to the tent, she couldn't help but glance in the direction that Flora stalked off to. Her gaze landed on Draco, whose eyes were watching her carefully. He had a small, blink-and-you-miss-it smile on his face as she simply grinned back at him.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron said as he dragged her attention away from Draco. "That death eater spawn nearly had you. I've never heard Kingsley curse before!"

Hermione shook her head. "Flora is a former Slytherin. Cheating is second nature. I should have realized."

"Still, who knew that Patronuses could walk through flames?" Harry clapped Hermione on the back. He was like a proud brother, the way he smiled down at her. "Should have seen the look on Flora's face. I've never seen anyone but you scowl so deeply."

"Well, it was a simple mind game, really." Hermione said in a bookish tone. "It was a clever ruse. As humans, we're conditioned to fear fire and avoid stepping into it. I'm almost shocked that Flora didn't figure it out before I did."

"Between us," a new voice spoke smoothly and Hermione turned to see Draco stroll through their tent, hands in his pockets and that same small smile on his face. "Flora is brilliant with magic, but lacks the depth of common sense."

Hermione tried not to laugh, really she did. She failed. "Are you switching teams now, Draco? You want to be with the winners?"

"That was one event, witch."

His tone was playful and light. But Merlin, the way he called her 'witch' stoked a fire inside. And for a moment, she forgot he could read her mind. One light brow raised over his eye and Hermione blushed.

_Bury it, bury it, bury it._

"You're facing Harry, seasoned Ministry officials, including the _Minister of Magic_ , and _me_ in the next events," she informed him as if she were speaking to a simpleton. "Face it, Malfoy, there's no way that you can win this event."

"Oh, how I'm going to love proving you wrong," he rebutted softly as he turned around. _Witch_.

He was gone from the tent before Hermione could collect herself enough to argue. She had to wonder if Harry was right before; was Draco Malfoy flirting with her?


	5. The Wizarding War Orphans Charity Event Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to the charity event, and shocking news is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited for this chapter because this is where the plot really, really kicks off! Thank you all so much for all the recs, the kudos, the words of encouragement. I'm so happy this little story is being enjoyed! XD And away we go!

** The Wizarding War Orphans Charity Event Part 2 **

 

 

Harry absolutely annihilated Draco at Defense. Draco slaughtered Percy at Healing. Mafalda and a chief healer at Mungo's were solving the arithmancy problem for a full hour before Mungo's took the win. The Ministry had to win the next two events to win the whole competition, and it put Hermione into a state of focus as she recited runes over and over again to prepare for her upcoming match. She wasn't going to be the reason that the Ministry lost.

The hour long break was coming to an end when Ron, Ginny, and a bedraggled looking Harry burst into the tent and interrupted her studying. Hermione jumped up and immediately saw Harry's pale complexion and bared teeth through which he was hissing, and rushed over to him. Sympathy missing.

"I _told_ you not to play Quidditch during the break," she chided him even as she looked him over for broken bones. When she touched his wrist, he gasped. Ron and Ginny tightened their hold on him. "You aren't going to be able to duel Draco like this!"

"It's not his fault." Ron guided Harry to a chair and sat him down. "Blaise summoned a bludger from Merlin-knows-where, and we thought we'd have a bit of fun reliving the old days."

"Really fucking smart," Ginny rolled her eyes. "One of the healers from Mungo's was playing beater and smacked the bludger right at Harry."

"And we all tried to defend him and knock it away - "

"But then Astoria fell off her broom - "

"And Flora was fighting with someone mid-air - "

"But then we heard the crack of the bludger - "

"And then Harry was on the ground clutching his wrist." Ron let out a deep breath and sat down next to Harry, who was tinged green and wincing as he clutched his wrist. "Went a bit pete up there. Like everyone was under some sort of spell or something."

"There was no spell, Ronald!" Hermione turned from her friends and cast her patronus charm to get a healer into the tent. "It was you lot being stupid and playing with _bludgers_ when everyone else was counting on you to stay _in one piece_."

Ginny leaned into the space in front of Harry and Ron and whispered, "Her voice is doing that dog whistle thing again."

"Ugh!" Hermione threw her hands into the air and glared around the tent's open space. "Potters and Weasleys will be the death of me, I swear it."

It took only a few minutes for a healer to sort out Harry's wrist enough for him to stop squirming in pain. Skele-Grow was a nasty business, and there was no way he was going to be fit enough to duel Draco in an hours' time. Hermione kept huffing each time one of her friends would check on Harry to make sure he was okay, and eventually people stopped coming into the tent to check on him.

"So, you'll be dueling Malfoy then?" It was Ron who was brave enough to approach her. "Even Kingsley said you'd be qualified enough.You scored second highest, right?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron. Second highest wasn't _the_ highest. It lowered their chances of winning. And there were several aurors who were more qualified to duel, who had been trained in an academy to know combat dueling. Hermione didn't have that training; she was just quick thinking and had a wide range of spell theory. Nothing _practical_.

"Of course there are more aurors," Ginny said after Hermione voiced her thoughts. "But most of them have been getting pissed all day and couldn't hold their wands long enough to cast a jinx to save their lives. Malfoy would murder them with all his death eater-y."

Hermione planted her backside on a chair and lowered her head into her hands. There was another reason that she didn't want to duel against Draco. He could listen to her thoughts, he could have the inside track on what she was planning to cast and the strategy she was intent on using. It wouldn't be his fault if he cheated; they couldn't very well ignore each other's thoughts, and they hadn't gotten around to working on Occlumency so that she could block out her thoughts.

"Ron could duel," Hermione offered weakly as she  spoke into the heel of her palm.

"Ron can't duel his way out of a paper bag." It was Harry that leveled a serious gaze towards Hermione's hair, which was falling out of its knotted bun and getting frizzier as the day pressed on.

"Oi!" Ron shrugged, not bothering to fight it. He'd always been rubbish at dueling.

"Look, Ron, your talents lie with Quidditch or poorly timed humor or awkward statements that make everyone uncomfortable." Ginny patted his shoulder. "No offense meant, right Harry?"

"I don't want to duel Draco." Hermione tried to ignore the bubbling humor she often found in her friends. They were good at pulling her from dark places, bad moods, and sulking, by making her laugh against her will. The familiar ganging up on made Hermione dig her heels into her resolve and refuse to give in.

"Let's try a different approach," Ginny tried, sitting down next to Hermione and pulling her hand away  from her face. "If you _don't_ duel Draco, someone else _will_ and they'll _lose_."

"You evil, foul ginger," Hermione mumbled with narrowed eyes.

Ginny grinned triumphantly.

Breaking up the glares and smirks, Kingsley's voice bellowed through the field, calling the next players onto the pitch. Hermione wanted to continue arguing, despite knowing that Ginny was right, but instead she huffed and stomped out of the tent.

She was greeted with another large playing field. A gigantic square of dark cement overtook the grass. As she approached it, she noticed that it was broken into twenty five chunks, five by five, which each held one runic letter on its surface. Hermione's brow furrowed as she surveyed it.

"Obviously, we're going to follow a path from this end to the other," Draco spoke beside her. His eyes wandered over each letter as if trying to determine the proper course. "Your mind is moving a mile a minute. I can hardly hear myself think with your incessant thinking."

Hermione pursed her lips and turned to him. She still couldn't hear his thoughts and it was starting to grate on her nerves that their mutual problem was one sided. She put a hand to her hip and narrowed her eyes at him. Not in the mood today.

"Tetchy today, aren't you?" Draco's lips quirked at the corners. "Heard Potter's gone and tried to snog a bludger. Personally, I think he did it on purpose so he didn't have to face me."

"Oh sure. Vanquishing Lord Voldemort piece of cake. Defeating a ferret in a duel - impossible."

"Ouch," Draco whispered, though the smile was growing. "You do know - "

"The Runes Challenge," Kingsley's voice interrupted Draco and pulled his attention immediately. "You will be given a riddle which has a one word answer. On the board in front of you there are runes etched into concrete. Follow the path of runic letters that spell the word in the correct order until you reach the end. At the end, you must speak the name of the rune that hovers in the air in order to leave the board and be declared the winner."

The silence of the crowd didn't waver. In fact, Hermione thought it went so quiet, it bordered on creepy.

"Once you step onto the board, you cannot exit until you unlock the spell at the end. And beware! Should you step on the wrong tile, you may find yourself held at a disadvantage moving forward."

Hermione nodded her head, committing Kingsley's words to memory. Riddle. Password. Disadvantage. Check, check, and check. This was going to be fun, she thought. An exercise of the mind. She threw a sidelong glance at Draco whose eyes were roving the board in front of them. As much as she tried to keep her thoughts minimal and pure, she allowed them to linger a little too long on the sharpness of his profile. His outward appearance was the only thing about him that remained hardened. Hermione knew otherwise; beneath the aristocratic and elegant Malfoy exterior was a man determined that his legacy to the world would be _good_. She admired it most about him. He fought to relabel his birthright. It almost made her want to slow down, allow him this win.

"Don't. You. Dare. Granger." He didn't look at her. His small smile was gone.

"I didn't say-"

"You didn't have to," Draco whispered.

Seconds later, Kingsley spoke again. "I am always in front of you, but yet I am never here."

Hermione snapped her eyes away from Draco, pushing down the urge to inform him that it was a fleeting thought of compassion. No. She wouldn't allow him to win. If the Ministry won, the donations into the charity from outside sources would be so high, she couldn't force herself to lose.

The first choice of letters that she had were P, O, F, U or V, and J. She repeated the riddle in her head over and over and over. Hermione stepped forward at the same time as Draco - to the letter F. They glanced at each other, wearing a matching half-smile. They both knew that the answer to the riddle was 'future'. Now, it was a race to the final rune.

In front of them was another line of letters: M, U, T, C, D. She and Draco stepped side by side onto the U. As soon as their feet landed, Draco bounced from the U to the T next to them, but Hermione paused.

The next set of letters in front of her were C, T, I, F, R. Since the T to her right couldn't possibly lead to another U, Hermione stepped forward to the T there. She spared a look back to Draco, whose lips were pinched as he tried to step back onto the U and couldn't. She had to move faster.

The next line was TH, W, U, R, S. She pounced to the U and glanced back. Draco was on the first U. It wouldn't take him long to catch up. Hermione looked at the last letters and didn't see an R, but there was an E. Her eyes moved around the board to the spots that surrounded her;  there was only one clear path. Draco stepped on her T just as her feet moved to the R, and then she pushed herself off quickly to the E.

The rune hang above her head. The rune that foretold peace and prosperity. Draco's foot was next to hers. He rustled beside her.

"Jera," she shouted as she sought Kingsley's large stature in the crowd. He looked down upon her, proud, while Draco hissed a sharp curse under his breath.

"The Ministry stays in the competition, thanks to Miss Granger's keen intellect!"

The crowd cheered, bar a group of St. Mungo's supporters.

"You should look before you leap, Draco," Hermione whispered as they walked together off of the board and towards their respective tents. She thought it was a funny joke and the large grin on her face couldn't be moved.

"Ha, ha."

"I'm sorry." She stopped walking just before they reached the tent and turned to face him. He looked so disappointed that it almost lessened her smile. Almost. "I suppose you'll get a chance to make up for it, won't you?"

"If you don't distract me again," he said quietly, drawing closer to her.

Hermione's breath hitched. His hand raised up to move a fluffy wave of hair from her forehead. Her thoughts began to spin. Not here, surely. And not again, hadn't they decided? There was something there, wasn't there? In his eyes? Their stormy gray color was darker than normal, wasn't it? And when did he put his hand on her arm? Why was his thumb tracing tight circles there?

She was a mess.

Until Harry, Ron, and even Mafalda circled them and pulled Hermione away. As they congratulated her, cheered for her, clapped her on the back, and told her how spectacular she was, Hermione could only watch Draco's smirking face as he turned around and walked back into the hospital's tent.

As she was guided in a near-catatonic state to her own tent, Hermione barely registered all of the people who were gathered there. More than just the participants, but most of her friends were circled around her. Pep talks began. Their words washed over her as they spoke about dueling and tactics and Draco surely being ready to use underhanded techniques because he wants to win so badly. But Hermione could only hear the pounding of her heart in her ears. They'd almost kissed again, she was sure of it. She was so sure of it, until -

"I didn't think Malfoy would resort to distracting you from the game," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "He looked ready to devour you, sure, but he knows that it would throw our Granger into a whirlwind if he used that sodding charm of his. Anyone would, even Luna."

"You... think he was cheating?" Hermione asked quietly, suddenly overcome with embarrassment for thinking he could want it. Hadn't he made it clear a long time ago that they were just friends? Hadn't they _just_ had this conversation _again?_

 _"_ Malfoy? Hermione, he's a former Slytherin and a former death eater." Ron was laughing, and though his tone was more lighthearted than sarcastic, she still felt a roiling of irritation at the words. Ron seemed to notice, which was saying something because he never noticed anything relating to the emotions of another person. "I only meant that there's a certain amount of cunning and manipulation a bloke has to possess in order to be... those things."

And then Hermione was livid. A shade of red that didn't compare to her flush when sexually flustered. He'd taken her thoughts, the pure and innocent thoughts, and he twisted them so that he would benefit in the duel. Well, he had a whole other thing coming to him, that Draco Malfoy. She was going to win and she was going to show him exactly who he was messing with - Hermione. Fucking. Granger.

She didn't say a word as she bursted forth from the tent and onto the pitch. Her foot tapped impatiently with arms folded across her chest. Waiting and stewing in her anger. As soon as she saw his tall, lithe frame emerge into the field, she held her wand aloft. He barely had a chance to unholster his wand before she was shouting an offensive spell.

"Lacarnum Inflamarae!"

She poked her wand forward and a ball of fire erupted from it, shooting forward toward Draco. It grazed his shoulder and he was no longer unarmed.

There was a vague acknowledgement of Kingsley speaking again as she and Draco began circling each other slowly, so slowly. Draco defensive, Hermione ready to pounce.

"Since our competitors are, er, eager to get started..." A translucent dome shimmered around the pair of duelists. "We are encasing them for the protection of the crowd. The winner of the duel is the first person to hold the wand of their opponent. No Unforgivables are allowed. No intentional spells to cause irreversible harm. And the winner will decide whether St. Mungo's or the Ministry is the winner of the day!"

"Bloody hell, Hermio-"

She whipped her wand high above the tangled, frizzy mess atop her her head. "Incendium Cataegis!"

A fiery ring appeared around Hermione, close to her body but didn't burn her. The reflection of the flames in her brown eyes matched the rage she felt as she watched the blonde raise his wand.

"Aqua Eructo!" His drawl was almost bored as he flicked a jet of water toward her fire and watched it fizzle out.

"Immobulus," Hermione tried with a jut of her wand.

"Protego!" A brilliant light blocked her spell.

Hermione issued a frustrated shriek and stamped her foot on the ground. "Colloshoo!"

It hit Draco's dragon hide boots and he bent over as they stuck to the ground. Before he could speak, Hermione shouted, "Calvario!"

Draco countered with a shield and his face twisted into annoyance. "My _hair_? You were going to take off my _hair_? In a duel? Densaugeo!"

The familiar jinx that caused Hermione so much self-conscious pain in Hogwarts. Tooth Growing Spell. She countered quickly with a cloud of gray smoke. "Fumos!"

"What is your problem?" He cast a quick 'Finite' at the sticking charm holding him in place and advanced on her quickly.

Three spells issued from her wand, wordlessly, in succession: a stinging hex,  a binding charm, and Impedimenta. He blocked all but the stinging hex, which earned a hissing curse from his lips. Hermione smirked and raised her wand again.

"Don't get cocky, witch," he whispered as his wand flourished. He prodded his wand toward her and a rope issued from its end. He used it like a lasso and wrapped it around her waist. With a flick, he closed the short distance between them.

Hermione struggled against the rope. She threw another spell at Draco. "Everte Statum!"

It was meant to throw him backwards, but she didn't realize that his rope spell would hold. She flew through the air with him and landed on top of him with an 'ooph.' She flexed her wand hand and panicked. It wasn't there. When she felt Draco's wand tip at her side, Hermione grimaced and pushed away from him as quickly as she could. Her eyes scanned the area, but before she could find her wand, Draco had her levitating upside down. She called him a bastard as he floated her toward the wand. He let her hang above it for several moments before he ducked down and grabbed it.

As he twirled it in his fingers, Hermione fell to the ground. She called him a bastard again.

The crowd erupted in its loudest shouts that day. The dome around them disappeared and from the ground Hermione could see her friends rushing over to her. It was odd that they didn't look mad or upset, but worried. She rushed to stand up and ignored the hand that Draco was offering her.

"Hermione," he commanded her attention, but she refused to meet his eyes. "What is your problem? You were out for blood just now."

"You cheated!" She jabbed her finger into his grass covered white shirt. "You acted all... alluring and charming and you manipulated me into being... soft and, and, _nice_."

He actually laughed and Hermione saw red again.

"Did you think, maybe, for a minute, that I wasn't cheating?" His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of warning to it that Hermione completely ignored. She watched his face grow more upset as she shouted her thoughts to him.

"No, because you're a Slytherin and a-"

He grabbed her hand, the one jabbing into his chest and stepped into her space so quick that Hermione gasped and felt a twinge in her neck from looking up at him so fast.

"And a _what_ , exactly?"

Someone grabbed Hermione's arm. Her back was to Draco, but she could still feel the tension and the hurt and the labored breathing behind her. His heat was pouring off of him in waves. She could practically feel her hair getting bigger with the moisture of it.

She almost shouted at the intruder until she noticed it was Harry and his face wasn't just worried, it was that official auror look that meant trouble. Hermione's anger extinguished immediately, like she'd been doused in cold water. She felt the ripples of Draco's calm as well. Something was really, very wrong.

"Harry?" Her voice was raw.

"It's the hospital," he said solemnly, eyes flicking to catch Draco's stare. "Someone. Er. Dammit." Harry's hand massaged the back of his neck.

"Spit it out, Potter." Draco's voice was fairly raw as well, Hermione noticed somewhere in the recesses of her mind.

"Lockhart was attacked in the hospital this afternoon." His eyes darted between the two of them.

They both gasped. Hermione barely registered Draco's sudden thoughts, of shock and chaotic worry for various patients. Hermione reached back with her hand and grabbed his, entwining their fingers.

"Is he okay?" She barely forced the words out, because she already knew the answer.

Harry shook his head and whispered, "He's dead." 


	6. Antidotes and Filthy Squibs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione spends time with Draco after the news. Draco makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was sketched out so differently to how it was written. I'm so happy with it and I can't wait to get the rest of the story posted. I am estimating about 20-22 chapters right now, based on the outline. The plot thickens starting now. XD 
> 
> Thank you, as always, for any and all love for this fic. <3

** Antidotes and Filthy Squibs **

 

"We found this written on his chart." Harry handed Hermione a sheet of paper and searched her face as they took in the vulgar red writing across the medical record.

_NO BETTER THAN A FILTHY SQUIB_

She'd been an absolute wreck for twenty four hours, pacing through the hospital halls, sending owls to various news outlets and bookstores, and refusing to eat until all of the details were sorted. But, it wasn't until she saw those words that Hermione felt a rock in the pit of her stomach and dread tingling her nerves. The five years of rebuilding after the War were void of sentiments around blood purity. If they were spoken, it wasn't in public. This, the publicity of Gilderoy Lockhart's murder, was a statement.

A warning.

"I don't understand why this would happen now." Hermione sat on the edge of an empty bed and set the evidence next to her. "It's been a very quiet five years up until now."

Harry sighed and sat on the bed across from her. "We initially thought it was someone who Lockhart had terrorized in the past. But, now..."

"Still, that was over a decade ago, wasn't it? The witch who dispatched a banshee wouldn't have her memories back suddenly."

They sat in silence in the empty ward, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione's hair was piled on top of her head, frizzy, and stuck with a sticking charm. Her eyes were red-brimmed and circled with darkness. She hadn't slept or eaten since before the charity event. Even Harry's hair was disheveled across his forehead. At least his stomach wasn't growling every few minutes, though.

"What does it mean, Harry?" Hermione finally broke the silence with a whispered question. Her eyes gazed out the window to her right. The bright day outside juxtaposed the shadows of darkness that were creeping through the hospital that day. "Does your scar, you know?"

"No." Harry reached up to the faded lightning bolt scar and grimaced as his fingers traced it lightly. "It's not Voldemort. I feel like I would _know_."

Hermione nodded vaguely in agreement. "Does Draco have any ideas? Visitors, or anything suspicious?"

"He seemed just as lost about who could have done it." He glanced around to ensure they were alone before he continued. "We're going to launch a full investigation. Draco, Flora, and Gibbons will all need to be questioned. And it's going to be awkward as hell."

"He'll understand." Even as she said it, she wasn't sure he'd  appreciate  being made a person of interest. Not after all his work to separate himself from his past. "Maybe you'll need to expand your questioning a little bit. What about Goyle?"

"What _about_ Goyle?"

"Well..." Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her jumper. She still hadn't changed her clothes from the previous day. "Draco seemed to think Goyle was working for someone else, didn't he? Maybe he knows something underground that's rising?"

"Greg had a potted plant that was practically harmless."

Hermione jumped up. "Practically harmless, Harry, really?" She pointed to her head. "Draco and I can read each other's thoughts! We don't even know if there will be long term effects, and Merlin forbid we may _never_ find an antidote!"

"You should have more faith in me."

Draco entered the ward with his hands in the pockets of his black trousers, same grass-stained white shirt hugging his slim frame. As he approached Hermione and Harry, he pulled a small vial out of his pocket and offered it to her.

"One antidote, as you requested." His smile didn't reach his eyes.

Hermione snatched it out of his hand and brought it to her eyes. "You managed it? How did you? Haven't you been overrun with..."

"Yes, because I'm a bloody genius, and not as much as you might expect." Draco settled himself against the foot of another cot and crossed his ankles. "No one really cared that Lockhart is dead. He has no family, no friends. Since you lot have asked the media to stay mum until you could identify persons of interest, even the rabid house mums don't care yet."

"But that's terrible!" Hermione felt the sting in her eyes for the hundredth time. "He was so beloved."

"Sure," Harry agreed as he crossed his arms. Clearly he still wasn't over that one time when they were twelve. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Beloved liar, cheat, and almost-murderer."

"He wasn't an almost murderer!"

"He nearly left Ron and I to die by Basilisk!"

"You shouldn't have been down there anyway!"

"Did you... did you _seriously_ just insinuate that I shouldn't have done my best to save my _best friend's sister_ and that it was _okay_ for Gilderoy Lockhart to attempt my _murder_ because I was breaking school rules?"

Hermione felt guilty when Harry put it that way, but she was so riled up that she refused to back down. The little vial in the palm of her hand dug into her skin as she balled her fists.

"You have a seriously mucked up list of priorities." Harry whispered as he pushed away from Hermione and walked out of the ward without glancing back.

 _"_ He's just sensitive." Hermione waved at Harry's back. She'd have to fix that later. Draco chuckled and drew her attention back to him. "So, the antidote works?"

He gave one curt nod. "You'll not hear my thoughts immediately after taking that. Tastes like garbage, has essence of hellbore."

Hermione didn't care. She downed it in one gulp and stuffed the empty vial in her pocket. Her lips puckered and her eyes began to water. It was like pineapple met actual trash. Gross.

"Harry's going to make you come in for questioning," she told him after a moment of silence. As much as she disagreed with Harry about dragging Draco into the MLE, she figured she'd give him fair warning. "He's going to have Flora and Gibbons as well, so it's not like he believes it's because..."

 _of your past_ , she couldn't make herself finish the sentence out loud. Not after how they left things before Gilderoy was murdered. They'd been practically ready to rip each other to shreds. All because her feelings were hurt. Again. She had an awful track record of crushes, she thought. Gilderoy - dead, Ron - murderable as a boyfriend, Dean - abroad, Draco -

"It's nothing personal," he said. "Potter has to do his job. I have nothing to hide, so I won't stand in the way of his investigation."

  
"Do you expect something bad is happening? Like..." she bit her lip, hating the way she felt vulnerable. The worst she'd ever felt was being treated as an inferior because of her blood status, and while she was over those worries, it still bubbled something unpleasant within her thinking that it could happen again. "Do you think I'm in danger again?"

"You're no Squib, love." Draco left his bed and stood next to her. "We don't know if this is a one off, if it's related to anything else, or if Gilderoy didn't somehow arrange his own murder."

A begrudging laugh left her. "He didn't."

"Tried to spellotape his own brain."

"Was the victim of a brain charm gone wrong."

"His _own_ brain charm," Draco argued as a smile fought its way onto his face. "You have a problem with overstating your empathy for the underdog."

"I've been the underdog, Draco."

He shook his head. "Not once in your life, Hermione Granger."

She tilted her chin up so that she could look in his eyes. She hadn't realized he'd gotten so close to her. Her hand moved to his chest and Hermione offered him a small smile.

"Thank you for the antidote."

"I had my own agenda," he admitted quietly.

"Oh?" Her heart sped up. Maybe he wasn't toying with her before their duel.

"Healer Malfoy!" A brutish voice interrupted them and they each took a step back from one another. Hermione glanced to the stocky figure in the doorway and recognized him as Healer Gibbons, another caretaker of the Janus Thickey Ward. He was the main caregiver to the Longbottoms. Hermione quite liked him.

"What do you want, Gibbons?" Draco barked and Hermione noticed the faintest pink on his cheeks.

"Sorry to interrupt. It's the MLE. They want a statement, and you're the ranking healer on shift." Gibbons, to his credit, appeared apologetic and wide-eyed as he spoke. Hermione offered him a kind smile. "Auror Potter and Auror Weasley said they'd like to, er... sleep, at some point this century."

"Swine," Draco muttered darkly.  He turned to Hermione. "I don't like the idea of you being at your flat alone tonight."

"Draco, that's positively ridiculous. I'm a competent witch." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"While I'm glad you're acknowledging that again." He smiled as if he won an argument. "I am more concerned with your mental state. You've been moping around the hospital all day."

She had _not_ been moping. Of course she was sad. That was natural. Someone _died,_ for heaven's sake!

"Stay with me tonight, at my home."

Utter silence. Even her thoughts were mute. Did he just...? Her eyes bore into his.

"In, um, my spare room," he added. "We can keep each other company before going to sleep. Maybe have some dinner and some wine."

She blinked.

"I'll meet you at the floo in twenty."

And then he was gone and Hermione expelled a long and deep breath. Did Draco just ask her over for dinner and wine, and did he expect that it was a date? He didn't use the word date, though, so maybe the offer was simply so that neither of them had to be alone. And they really hadn't seen a lot of each other since the whole mind-reading toxin thing happened. She did miss him in an entirely platonic way, of course. Perhaps he missed her as well.

Nothing changed. They were still just friends. Except they'd shared their second ever kiss. But that didn't change anything, because they also had their second ever 'we're better off as friends' conversation. So, nothing changed. He only invited her over because he was worried about her, and she was worried about him and _wasn't that enough_?

Thankfully, Draco could no longer hear her thoughts and she wouldn't be tempted to listen to his again, either. Obviously the toxin they absorbed had played some part in how vulnerable Hermione was feeling around Draco lately. Up til then, she had been able to compartmentalize her feelings. That's all it was - the poison. Nothing more.

Hermione slowly ambled through the halls of the hospital without stopping to talk to the healers as she usually did. The lack of sleep was starting to wear on her and her stomach grumbled. Her clothes were messy, her hair was a beast of its own existence, and every muscle in her body screamed as she pushed herself toward the green light of the floo. He stood facing the flames, hands clasped behind his back, and only moved when he heard Hermione approach. His chin turned toward her, eyes filled with judgment as she came to his side.

"You look like hell."

She smiled at him and reached for floo powder. "So do you."

"I have some clothes you can wear for the night. And I'll have Tinks fix something for dinner."

"Tinks hates me." His house elf, the one who'd been caring for Draco specifically since his infancy, always had resting bitch face when Hermione was in the room.

"Tinks thinks you're evil because you tried to give her a dress," he said pointedly as he tossed a handful of powder into the grate. "Malfoy Estate, Woking."

It wasn't Hermione's first time at Draco's estate, but it always made her mind reel knowing that a mid-twenties bachelor could have such an immaculate place to live. It was embarrassing that she loved her one bedroom flat so much when Draco's home was endlessly bigger. The fireplace led into a small welcoming room, almost a foyer in its own right. Ceramic floors and dark blue, almost midnight colored, walls surrounded the white marble fire grate. In a dozen steps, Hermione was met with a fork in the room and hung a right to meet Draco in his living area. If she wasn't careful, she could get lost in the maze of rooms, even though she'd been there several times.

Draco was waiting for her in the middle of a pale mint painted room with high cathedral ceilings and white plush carpeting. Before she stepped foot onto the carpeting, she removed her dirt-soaked shoes and Draco rolled his eyes at her. Hermione would never be able to get rid of the respectful muggle traditions that she'd known most of her life. She sat herself on his dark leather settee and pulled her feet under her bum.

The spot was hers no matter who else was in the room. She'd wrestled it away from Blaise and Theo when Draco first moved out of the Malfoy Manor.

Her wand guided her shoes around a corner and out of sight as she watched Draco walk from the room and leave her alone. Nothing had really changed about the estate, all the same light colors, the same modern furniture. An entirely different ambiance than what he'd known at the Manor. It surprised Hermione, since she knew that Narcissa helped Draco with the decor. He told her that it was an exercise in change and that his mother felt positively delighted with the results.

Hermione still hadn't faced the elder Malfoys yet.Couldn't bear to do it after everything.

Her eyes roved over the various weekly newspapers and trash magazines that Pansy loved to finger through as the others talked of more boring topics like politics, education, and business. There were books littered in all corners of the room, never put into the inlaid bookshelf that took up a full wall in the room. She was jealous that he could fit so many books in one space. She had a shelf that barely held a dozen.

"Here, you can wear this." Draco was suddenly standing beside her and holding out a pair of his black silk pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt. 

Ah. All the female clothes that he had probably belonged to girls who were less conservative with their bodies. Hermione nodded as she noted he'd already changed his clothes into something similar to what he handed her.

"I didn't have any girls' clothes left," he said casually with a small smile. "Besides, my pajamas are much more comfortable."

By the time Hermione was changed and back into the room, Draco had food on the coffee table; sandwiches and wine. She found her spot again, curled up, and reached out to grab a bit of turkey on rye. Picking at it with her fingers, she watched Draco as he sat down next to her and did the same.

"You're awfully quiet now," she told him and then stuffed a piece of turkey into her mouth.

"It feels like it did before. We can't see the bigger picture, but we know something is out there." He reached for his wine. "Gilderoy was a piece of work, but there was no reason for him to be killed.I can't think of anyone who would want to. And I'm being dragged into the Ministry _again_ for questioning."

Hermione sipped on her wine and swallowed. She wanted to make sure whatever she said didn't derail them like it had after their duel.

"You're not being questioned because someone thinks you're guilty." She sipped again. "You're being questioned because you have access that the MLE doesn't. You know who may have been to see Gilderoy, what type of gifts he might have received, or fan mail he might have gotten. It's not because anyone still considers you a dark wizard, Draco."

And if they did, she thought, she'd gladly hex them.

Draco's lips quirked in a small smile. They were stained red from the wine which contrasted so nicely against his pale skin.

"Back at the hospital, before I gave you the antidote, I heard some of your thoughts." He was deliberate with his words and he let them hang between them for a moment before he continued speaking. "You're worried, too."

She knew what it was like to fear for her life for simply existing. The scar on her arm was a constant reminder. But the pain and the fear took a backseat as she grew up and left that horrible past behind her. Yes, she was worried now. Like scar tissue was freshly torn open. But there hadn't been a lot of time to dwell on it yet.

They drank in silence, filling up their glasses twice, and each finishing a full sandwich before they began talking again.

"My application is in for Deputy Head of the MLE," Hermione told him quietly. "If something is happening, I want to fight it."

"Of course you do," Draco chuckled lightly. "You're brilliant at fighting for the downtrodden, Granger, but you have a natural ability at fighting dark magic."

Hermione grinned. "I lost to you today."

He returned her grin and held up his wine glass to her. "Indeed. Perhaps I should apply for the Deputy Head's job?"

She full blown laughed and nearly spilled her wine. "You _hate_ the Ministry. I think I'd sooner find you in a muggle electronics store."

The joke went right over his head. She laughed some more.

It was a nice change from the panic and sadness she'd been feeling all day. Gilderoy had his faults and he made awful choices, but when he was murdered it was done when he was vulnerable. And the reason, because he was no better than a filthy squib, was atrocious. It was no better than killing someone because they were born to muggles. Without realizing it, Hermione's laughter had faded into tears again. So much for a nice change.

"You're going to find out who it was," Draco said softly. He set down his empty wine glass onto the table and scooted closer to Hermione.His thighs were against hers. "And no one is going to hurt you. They'd have to get through a lot of extremely skilled wizards first."

Hermione sniffed. She knew that. Down to her bones, she knew that her friends would keep her safe just as they did before. And, she would keep them safe because there was no way that she'd sit on the sidelines. Her eyes closed and she pushed a tear away from her eyes. It was ridiculous to get so upset. One wizard died. It wasn't the rise of the next Dark Lord. It was just an angry fan or someone who'd been double crossed by Gilderoy. It had to be.

"I feel like I should be doing something more," she whispered. "Back... then, we were always doing something. Researching or fighting or training. I've never just sat back and waited."

"You're not an auror." His hand was on her thigh. She tried to ignore it. "You're not in the Order of the Phoenix any longer. You champion for the rights of creatures everywhere. No one is going to blame you for allowing them to do their jobs."

"But, I want to be deputy head of their department. I _should_ do something." Her voice caught as he started to run his thumb against the silky fabric of the pajamas. Did he even realize what he was doing? To her?

"You are doing something." His tone was firm. It didn't match the feather light touches against her thigh. It didn't match the softness of his eyes as they caught hers. "You're keeping your friends safe by not going off on your own. You're not searching out trouble."

She wanted to call him a liar. There she sat, her hands cupped dangerously around her wine glass as she tried desperately not to flush at the feel of his hand and his breath and the weight  of his body at her side. She blinked and then he was closer still. His face not far from hers. Lips, she glanced down at them, were just out of reach. His distinctly Draco scent - spicy and woodsy - tickled her nose. Wanting to kiss Draco Malfoy most certainly was searching for trouble.

He closed the gap and his lips pressed against hers for the third time. As quick as it started, it ended. A bellowing bark rung throughout the home, scratching on the door echoed through the room. The pair jumped apart, breathing heavy and flushed. Draco cursed and flew from the sofa before Hermione had a chance to stop him. She guzzled down what was left in her wine glass and set it on the table.

It was the third time their lips met and she was just as flustered from it this time than the first two times. Merlin help her, she wanted to do it again. Even if he stood his ground and couldn't be in a serious relationship. She didn't need one. They could be casual, at least. They could get rid of the overwhelming sexual tension. Probably.

Hermione finally settled on making her move on Draco when he walked back into the room, but he wasn't alone. At his side bounded a matted and minging mutt that was as tall as his knees. The thing's tongue hung out the side of its mouth and it snorted and grunted as it smashed its head against Hermione's knee. She assumed it was affection, but she never quite liked dogs.

"Look what I found at the door." Draco, still a tad pink in the cheeks, patted the top of the dog's head and then scratched behind its ears. "She must have been on the grounds for a while. Her coat is covered in mud. I'll have Tinks give her a bath and she can stay until I find her owners."

Hermione eyed the dirt-coated beast as it nuzzled against Draco's hand. She tried not to wrinkle her nose, but failed. "Cute."

  
"Her collar says 'Hestia'. No contact information. She's so lovely, isn't she?" Draco called for his house elf and relayed the instructions for the bath. "I've always wanted a dog. Father was allergic, or so he says."

"I'm sorry you couldn't get everything you wanted as a child." She watched the dog flounce away next to the house elf that she almost towered over.

"Oh, we're back to insinuating that I was a spoiled brat?" Draco plopped down on the sofa next to her. Mood completely shifted. Hermione's shoulders fell.

"You _are_ a spoiled brat."

"By definition, a spoiled brat would get everything that he wants."

Suddenly the mood shifted again. His hand was at the back of her neck. His lips were hovering just shy of hers. How did he move so quickly? Hermione's breath hitched and she wound her hands into the cotton of his shirt.

"So you weren't playing with me after the duel?" Hermione asked in a small voice, breath barely leaving her as the words left her.

She didn't know why she had to ask that question, not sure why it mattered now, not sure why she couldn't just assume the answer was 'no' since here he was with his lips a literal hair away from hers. He could have been messing with her then and still could want to kiss her now. Draco could have not been messing with her at all. He could also have been messing with her and then just decided on seeing how far he could get with her tonight simply for the comfort after a bad day. She couldn't blame him for that.

In fact, she could use the same sort of relief. Her eyes raised back to his, wide and screaming for him to do it already. Kiss her.

"Fuck's sake, witch." He growled and his lips crashed against hers.


	7. The Minging Beast

** The Minging Beast **

It felt different from the previous kisses they shared.

His hands wrapped in her messy, tangled hair. Lips pressed against hers. She made a noise in the back of her throat when his tongue swiped hers, the briefest of touches.

Hermione had kisses before Draco. They were perfectly fine.

This was different.

His body molded itself as close to her as possible, the hard angles of his hips brushing against the silken fabric of her pajamas. It forced her brain into sensory overload. The feel of it all was entirely Draco; not sweet and coy, but demanding and passionate. Fingers curled against her scalp, forced her chin to tilt and allow him to delve further into the kiss.

Her hands moved to his chest and then up to the sides of his neck and held him in place. She squeezed gently and each little movement that elicited a roil of arousal in her abdomen pushed her closer and closer to his body until he finally loosened his grip in her hair and yanked her onto his lap. Draco's lips left hers for only a moment before she whimpered and silently begged for him to kiss her more. Her mind spun around chaotic thoughts of wanting more, more, more from him. He didn't wait for her to voice it. Dragging his lips from her mouth, despite the protest of her hands pulling him back toward their kiss, he planted open mouthed kisses against the soft flesh below her ear.

Hermione's breath issued from her in a stream of wanton sighs as her hands met at the base of his neck and tangled in his hair to pull him closer. She couldn't imagine stopping now. They weren't going to stop. It was going to happen here and now. Images of Draco's hands in her knickers, his lips dipping below the v line of her shirt, length pressed against her core.

It wasn't Hermione who moaned at the thought, but Draco whose throat constricted around a gritty groan. His hips bucked underneath her, and Hermione's chest pressed even harder against him as her back arched. She careened as his thumbs dipped into the waist of her pajamas and gripped her hips tightly.

The couch dipped under new weight and she was pressed further into Draco's hardness, eliciting a hiss from both of them. Just as Hermione started to grind her hips, to let him feel the effect of his touches, a furry face was in hers.

"Master Draco!"

Hermione's head whipped to the side to see Tinks the house elf running with a towel in her hand an an expression of sheer panic on her face. The elf's yellow orb eyes were so wide that they overtook any other feature of her small face. Hermione's thoughts whirled between 'no!' and immediate annoyance at the cold, wet nose pressed against her cheek. Draco's quiet growl mimicked her thoughts.

"Tinks!" Draco ground out through gritted teeth. "What is going on?"

The dog panted against Hermione's face. It was too much to ignore. Hermione pushed off of Draco, despite the squeeze of his fingers on her skin. Disappointment filled her eyes as she shoved at the dog's massive body so that she could crawl away from Draco.

"Master Draco, the minging beast runs away from Tinks! It jumps out of the bath and it barks at Tinks and Tinks tries to stop it and it..."

"Tinks..." His hands massaged his face roughly. The dog sat beside him with a wide open mouth and tongue dangling from the side of it. Draco's hands found the now clean fur of its neck and patted it absently.

If possible, the poor elf's eyes grew even larger. Pleading with her master for understanding. Hermione could hardly handle it. She dropped down to Tinks' side on her knees and placed a hand on the small elf's shoulder. Tinks jumped slightly at the contact.

"It's okay, Tinks," Hermione said to soothe the elf. "It wasn't your fault. Draco isn't angry with you."

Draco's glare in her direction said otherwise even as he continued to pet the dog. She watched him for a moment, then. His eyes still smoldered, lips plump and bright, chest rising and falling quickly. She felt exactly as he looked. Disheveled. Disarmed.

"Draco," she breathed, desperate to collect herself, "tell Tinks that you don't blame her for the dog interrupting you."

Grumbling, Draco nodded his head. "Sure, Tinks. Of course you're not to blame."

The elf glanced at the floor and shrugged off Hermione's hand. "Thank you, Master Draco. Tinks does not know what she is doing to have such a kind master."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Tinks, you don't need to call him 'Master', you know?"

"Oh, bloody hell, Hermione," Draco said at the same time Tinks burst into tears and ran away from them. "Tink-"

"Draco!" Hermione stood up from the ground. "She's allowed to be upset. Don't order her back so that you can force her to do your bidding."

His lips were a straight line as he considered her. His eyes roamed from hers down to the hips he'd been gripping only minutes before. Hermione's cheeks flushed. Did he even know what those simple looks could do to her?

"Right." His voice was suddenly husky. "Why don't we try this again?"

"But..." Hermione gestured to the large, shaggy dog to his side.

"We're the humans," Draco told her. His hand moved from the dog's collared neck and he pointed to the ground. "Down."

The dog's mouth closed and its dark brown eyes moved to the floor and back to Draco, who repeated the command. It took three tries, but the dog finally jumped from the sofa and sat at Draco's feet on the floor.

"See? She's a good girl," Draco said with a small smile before he turned from the dog and addressed Hermione with a pointed finger. He crooked his finger and beckoned her forward. "Come here."

She was crimson, approaching him in three short steps. When she was in front of him, Draco hooked his hands around her hips and dragged her back into his lap.

"Hestia clearly isn't the only good girl in the room," he whispered below her earlobe before his lips were toying with the skin of her neck. "Now, where were we, Granger?"

Hermione would never admit it out loud, but the praise from Draco caused something to snap inside of her. She didn't know what Draco was like beneath the sheets, but this side of him was inflaming her body, causing wicked imaginings of the things they could do to each other. She wasn't sure if he was romantic or rough or devotional. But each image of him, moving slowly inside of her, pressing her down into a mattress, going down between her legs, stoked an atomic fire within her gut.

He kissed his way from the base of her throat to her ear and whispered, "What do you want, Hermione?"

Just as the answer was bubbling from her lips: this, you, us, all of it, the giant white beast was back onto the sofa and forcing herself between them again. Hermione was the one to growl as Draco's lips were pulled again from hers. Frustration overtook arousal within seconds and she glared at the dog for its untimely interruption.

"Honestly!" She cried as she flung herself from Draco's lap and pressed into the side of the sofa. The dog seemed not to care as it turned around in a circle and cuddled up to Draco's other side. "Can't you, I don't know, let her outside or put her away somewhere?"

Of course she didn't want the damn dog to feel lonely or unwanted, but after years of actual pining for Draco, and to be so close to get absolutely nowhere was reeking havoc on Hermione's typical pro-creature attitude.

Draco chuckled, somewhat humorlessly, and shook his head. "You don't mean that. If I tried to make Hestia sleep in a closed off room, you'd lose your mind to guilt."

Hermione rolled her eyes. He was right, but it was more annoying than charming. Clearly her demeanor was amusing because Draco laughed again.

"Why don't you just curl up on my other side, love?" Draco lifted his arm as if to put it around her shoulders.

"Oh, that's so hot." Hermione threw herself into his side and shot a glare at the dog who ruined an evening that was starting to turn her whole day around. "Second place to a fuzzy monster."

Draco's fingers closed around Hermione's shoulder and he pulled her closer. His other hand met her chin and tilted it up so that he could look into her eyes. The icy grey eyes met hers and she saw that he was no less aroused with just a glance. It cooled her annoyance immediately. His lips quirked at the corners and he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her lips.

"What if I promised that Hestia will stay with Tinks when we go to bed, hm?" His lips were mere inches from hers, hot breath fanning against her sensitive lips.

She glanced up at him with a lopsided smile and then pressed her mouth to his. Just as Hermione was about to deepen the kiss, Hestia began to bark. Incessantly, until Hermione pulled away. Once she quieted, Draco kissed her again. Hestia began to bark again until he pulled away.

"Tinks. Hestia. Are you sure these creatures that you champion actually like you, too?" His eyes were sparkling down at her. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I've never actually known you to get along with anyone who wasn't a human being. Don't the goblins hate you, too?"

"It doesn't matter if they like me, Draco," Hermione hissed and pulled away from him. "They just don't know who to trust, that's all."

"Hmm. In that case, perhaps we ought to ward my home against any more strays that seek shelter. Wouldn't want the rogue Centaurs in Woking to find their way here and get in the way of what I plan to do with you later."

He snuck another chaste kiss against her lips. Hermione smiled against his lips despite herself. That ridiculous charm of his, something that he didn't show to her until right before the first kiss they shared, could get him out of an awful lot of trouble. And, as exasperated as she was that he _knew_ it, Hermione couldn't fault it. It was one of the things that attracted her to Draco, and it was the endearing sort of charm that pulled her down the path of falling in love with him.

Draco stilled. There was such a change in his demeanor that even the dog lifted its head and let out a short yip toward Hermione.

"We could go to my bed now," he whispered in a hoarse tone.

Something about his tone, the desire that she could feel in his words, made Hermione pause and watch him. Draco's stare didn't budge from hers.There was vulnerability there that she'd never noticed before, but something more, something deeper than casual desire. Maybe he was more into this than she'd ever thought. Maybe she was more than a once-off snog. If that was true, then why was he always so adamant that they couldn't have more?

A tapping on the window drew her away from appraising the expression on Draco's face. He withdrew his arm from around her shoulder and stood to allow the owl that appeared inside the house. A second owl appeared behind it seconds later. Hermione looked over at the dog, wondering if it would go after the birds, but it didn't move as it watched them fly inside. Draco pulled the scroll from one as the other flew onto Hermione's lap.

The fleeting thought that it was odd to see such a docile dog crossed her mind as she unraveled the scroll meant for her.

_Theo and I heard about Lockhart. We are declaring an evening out in his honor. Please join us at The Griffon for a round of drinks tonight._

_-Neville x_

"I'm assuming you're also invited to drinks at The Griffon?"' Draco asked her as he crossed the room. "They'll take any excuse they can to have a drink."

"I think it's nice," Hermione muttered as she stood up. "Neville probably knows Gilderoy better than most people. He's been visiting that ward since he was very little."

"I had other ideas for this evening." His hands sat on her hips and he pulled her closer. "They don't really need us there."

Hermione bit down on her lip as she looked up at Draco through long lashes. "It's not an option to bail on this."

She could never allow Neville to face these things alone. Like Harry, he was fragile  when it came to death and darkness. Ever since Harry told her that it could have been Neville all along, that he could have been The Chosen One, it endeared him even more to her. Neville's life was another example of how detrimental the old pureblood way of thinking could devour a group of people. His poor parents.

"Okay." He placed a sweet kiss on her forehead, though the way that his eyes would no longer meet hers told Hermione that he was disappointed in her choice. She sighed, guilt causing a small war within her. "We can just pick this up later, right? Call it foreplay."

A night of drinks and foreplay with Draco? Hermione heated up at the thought. She could feel the flush crawling up her neck as  she pushed away from him. He hesitated letting her go, but Hermione turned from him and started walking away.

"Where are you going, love?" Draco called after her.

When she looked back, the dog was at Draco's feet watching her leave as well. Hermione shook her head and smiled. Pleased he wasn't running away from her this time.

"I can't wear your pajamas to the pub, Draco," she laughed. "What would our friends think?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, for reading, for the kudos, for the bookmarks, and the comments! :) I am hoping to have the next chapter out within the next few days.


	8. In Memorium, Immemorious

**In Memoriam, Immemorious**

 

Somewhere between sitting on the sofa at Draco's and changing her clothes back at her flat, Hermione managed to convince herself that spending the night with Draco was a very bad idea. She valued his friendship and wasn't willing to let it go just because they seemed to have some uncontrollable urges for each other. Her resolve strengthened, she'd maintain her distance from him at the pub and come home to her own bed at the end of the night.

The Griffon, usually a homely pub whose clientele steadily visited through the day, was unusually packed that evening. Hermione pushed herself through a sea of people to the table all the way in the back that was unofficially reserved for their patronage. It was closest to the loos and to the dart boards, which Ron said was prime real estate. When she shoved past a particularly tall and stocky bloke, Hermione came face to face with the dark eyes of Dean Thomas and a grin lit up her face.

"Granger!" Dean slung his arm around her neck and pressed his cheek to the side of her head. "I thought maybe you fell off the face of the planet."

Hermione laughed and squeezed him tight around the middle. "You're the one who took off to Turkey, Thomas."

He pulled away and looked down at her with a bright smile. Dean whispered, "I'm not the one who stood you up for our date."

A notch formed between her brows. "Our date?"

"Hermione!" Ginny squealed.

She was pulled away from Dean's side even as her mind tried to grasp the memory of having a date with Dean.She didn't, did she? It felt like maybe they'd talked about it, but whenever she thought she was about to recall agreeing to a night out with him, it disappeared. Hermione blinked rapidly, a sliver of worry bubbling in her gut.

The table of her friends each took turns saying hi or waving in some fashion or another. Luna and Harry sat so close to one another Hermione could swear something finally happened between them, thought in stark contrast Pansy and Ron seemed to be seething next to each other. Hermione smiled at them; their animosity was beginning to turn into something more and she doubted either one of them noticed.

Hermione knew that Pansy was a tough person to love, but now Hermione couldn't imagine not having Pansy around to fend off the press or to recommend the best hair tonic for her untamable mane. They'd gotten close sometime after their return to Hogwarts. Pansy... did something. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed again as she perused the soft features of the girl's face. Why couldn't she remember that night? It was a defining moment for Hermione's friendships, when she realized that house rivalries and segregation would ruin the post-war reconstruction efforts. She remembered being impressed with Pansy. And then... nothing.

A memory just out of reach.

Something tingled at the base of Hermione's neck and she turned her head from Pansy to see Draco staring at her. His eyes were wide, blue, and as tense as his body seemed. Hermione offered him a smile and he returned it with thin lips.

"There's my favorite Gryffindor!" Neville grabbed her hand and pulled Hermione to where he and Theo were sat.

A chorus of "oi!"s issued around the table at Neville's declaration, but he merely laughed them off.

"Neville!" Her arms snaked around his frame. "You still smell like the beach! How was Greece?"

"This git didn't let me sit on the beach for long enough," he laughed even though his eyes softened considerably as he glanced down to his husband. "He'd rather relax in a spa, so the reason I still smell like the beach is because he forced me into a saltwater and mud bath. Truly disgusting."

Hermione would die to enjoy that type of relaxation and she found herself pleased with Theo for making sure Neville relaxed on their honeymoon. She hadn't taken time off like that ever.

"That would explain your radiant skin." Hermione ran her finger along Neville's forearm. He was practically glowing. "Maybe you should listen to your husband more often."

Neville groaned even as Theo lifted his lips. "Why'd you have to go and say that? He's never going to let that go now." He turned to address the table again. "I have an open position for 'favorite Gryffindor.'"

Hermione swatted him. The table laughed as Luna waived her hand in the air. "I've never been anyone's favorite Gryffindor."

Someone, Hermione suspected Draco, snorted. Harry put his hand on Luna's shoulder."You're not a Gryffindor, love."

"Well that's a terrible requirement." Luna didn't look upset, merely took a sip of her gillywater.

"Anyway," Theo took the limelight at the table and stood to address everyone. His hand slipped around Neville's waist and drew him close. "We wanted everyone here to celebrate the life of Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Hear, hear," Luna echoed.

"Gilderoy was the first to know about our friendship." Neville smiled fondly at Theo and traced a finger lightly down his cheek. "It never felt like a secret because _someone_ knew."

"It was a secret, though," Blaise pointed out with a cheeky grin. "Until I found you in the library in seventh year."

"Five years a secret friendship, two years a secret relationship." Theo admitted. The two husbands had barely lost eye contact as they spoke to the group.

"One year, a hot relationship with an extra body." Blaise chuckled at Neville's blush. "I still can't get the way that Longbottom su-"

"Merlin, Zabini, we don't want to know." Ginny cut him off. She was bright red and laughing despite the serious glare she gave Blaise.

"I can vouch for the accuracy of Blaise's appraisal," Theo laughed. "But we didn't ask you here to discuss our amazing sex life."

"Raise your hand if you believe him," Blaise argued. No one raised a hand.

"Right." Neville shook his head. "Let's just do a round in Lockhart's honor, because I'm going to need a tankard of this before I'm ready for that conversation."

"The man was a menace, but what a legend." Cormac saluted the table with his whisky and swallowed it in one gulp.

"More menace than legend," Harry whispered before following Cormac's salute. "Nott, you do know that the man almost left Ron and me for dead?"

"Here we go again with Saint Potter and his Insufferable Stories of Survival," Blaise joked, taking his shot. "What was it again, Potter? Lockhart taught you how to be a celebrity and then tried to off you for his next book?"

Hermione scrunched her nose. "He never did anything of the sort."

The table glanced at her. Someone pressed a drink into her hand. She drank it quickly, trying to quell the anxiety that was growing by the minute. Memories were getting harder to bring to the front of her mind. Like puzzle pieces that were missing a notch.

"Not this again!" Harry sighed. "Hermione, even if I was breaking the rules, he had no right to try to obliviate Ron and I and leave Ginny - you know, your best friend - for dead."

"What?" Hermione's head snapped towards Harry and she narrowed her eyes. She felt pale, weak, like jelly. "That's quite the story, Harry. How much have you had to drink?"

Silence met her question. All eyes at the table were on her. She bit her lip and felt the palms of her hands getting slick. She rubbed them against her trousers. Why did everyone think she was the crazy one? Harry's story of Gilderoy couldn't have been true, she remembered that there'd been something in her second year, a monster, and Salazar Slytherin's legendary Chamber of Secrets, but... Oh, crikey. She couldn't remember what happened.

"Hermione!" A male voice called out to her, but she didn't pay it much attention.

She hadn't realized that she'd fled the table. Her mind was in a whirlwind; she just ran. Something was wrong.Something was off. Bile rose in her throat. Her hands shook until she reached the door and stood against the brick wall where Draco had kissed her only a week before. Her eyes closed and she breathed deeply through her nose and out through her mouth slowly.

All of these small memories weren't missing exactly, but just out of reach. Blurred at the edges, taunting her to remember and she just couldn't. There was no explanation, either. Stress, maybe. It was plausible, she reasoned. She hadn't slept much since Gilderoy's death, maybe three hours. Clearly, she was delusion from lack of sleep.

Her body started to relax.

"There you are."

Of course he'd search for her. Hermione turned her gaze to Draco and sighed.

"Here I am," she whispered. "I must be exhausted. I think I'll go home, get some rest. Everyone must think I've gone mental."

Draco invaded her space, close but not touching. She could smell the spicy firewhisky on his breath. "You really don't remember Lockhart trying to murder your best friend?"

"I..." Her eyes dropped from his and focused on a weed growing through the cement. She couldn't remember it, but she thought maybe she knew about it. It felt like another life. "I'm just tired is all, Draco. I haven't slept, just need a kip."

"You wanted to come here tonight  when there were much more interesting things happening." He stepped closer and nudged her chin with his knuckles to force her gaze to his. "Do you want me to take you home?"

Merlin, his eyes. It was her weakness in Draco Malfoy. No matter the words that came out of his mouth, when his eyes locked on hers, she was a goner. She swallowed thickly and nodded her head. Get her out of here, out of this close proximity, away from the worry that she was losing her bloody mind.

"Take my hand." He held it out to her and watched her closely. They didn't break eye contact as she slipped her fingers between his and squeezed. "If sleep doesn't fix this, you're coming with me to Mungo's."

All she could do was nod. Her entire capacity for thought was wrapped up in Draco. The warmth of his body next to hers, his hand clasping hers so tightly, the way he towered over her frame so protectively. The resolve she had earlier in the evening was dissolved quickly with each second she stood close to him.

"I shouldn't leave without telling Neville goodbye." She couldn't tell if the words actually left her mouth. Draco spun them on the spot and they apparated just outside the pathway that led to her block of flats.

"Let me come up and make you tea."

His hand was still wrapped in hers. Draco pulled her along, the brisk pace set by his long legs had Hermione struggling to keep up. He stopped just outside of her front door and turned quickly. She would have run straight into his lean body if he hadn't put his hands out to catch her by the hips.

"You talked yourself out of sleeping with me, haven't you?" He peered down at her. No malice in his words, just quiet disappointment. "Look at me, Hermione. I won't try to get in your knickers tonight, if that's what you're worried about."

That surprised her. Every touch, look, and word from him today was like lighting a sexual fire in every nerve of her body. Did he not feel that, too? Did she misread the signals? A few more manic thoughts were silenced as Draco's lips met hers sweetly, slowly, softly. When he pulled away, she flushed.

"I won't try to get in your knickers, but I'm quite fond of stealing kisses when I can see you're over thinking." He smiled and she immediately felt at ease. "Let me come up and make you a cup of tea."

Hermione nodded. She wasn't particularly against Draco trying to get into her knickers, of course. She just wasn't sure that she could stand it if that's all it would ever be. The  reason that she couldn't stand it was a faded remembrance, though. As much as she tried to grasp at it, she couldn't quite put a pin in it.

Draco unlocked her door and led her to her sofa. She wanted to show him how to work the kettle, as it was finicky, but he forced her to sit and assured her that he was able to heat up the water with a spell, no fire necessary. They were so different that way; she still enjoyed doing things the Muggle way.

She must have fallen asleep before Draco brought the cup of tea out to her. When she roused briefly from her sleep, she was covered in a light afghan with her head against what she thought was the arm of the sofa. If she would have bothered to look around, Hermione would have noticed that her head was propped against Draco's thigh and his arm was stretched along the side of her body. As it was, he didn't make a noise to alert her to his presence, and she promptly fell back to sleep.

It didn't take long for her dreams to start. They were always more vivid when she was exhausted with work or after she'd had a drink. Tonight, it was both. Her subconscious treated her with strange imagery and awful memories.

_First she was eleven and Susie Parkes was taunting her about not having a perfect spelling test. And then she was writhing on the floor of Malfoy Manor while a dark haired death eater carved Mudblood into her arm. She was facing Draco in the Hogwarts library and watching him pour over exam materials. She was cornered next to the suit of armor as he hovered just out of reach. Then there was a dog chasing her down the hallway. And then she was alone in her room staring at her naked body in the mirror. Draco appeared behind her and grabbed her hips as he kissed her neck, watching her with each movement. Then a dragon roared and she was running but she couldn't remember why she had to run so fast, but she was panting until she came face to face with Draco who was holding out his hand to save her, but she wouldn't take it. Harry was screaming for her and she was wracked with the Cruciatus Curse and her arm was bleeding and Pansy was holding her head while she cried and Draco was watching silently from the corner of the room. Her insides burned and she was in front of the mirror with Draco again and his hand was in her knickers._

Something shifted under her head and before Hermione could register anything in the darkness of her flat, familiar lips were against hers. Hands wrapped in her hair. She moaned into the kiss and then it was deeper and a body climbed onto the sofa half on top of her body replacing the sudden chill when the blanket was removed.

She knew who it was, didn't have to question it. He smelled the same as he did here and now kissing her. Hermione shifted slightly to allow him to fit between her legs. One of his hands left her hair and traveled down to the buttons of her jumper, flicking them open quickly to reveal the white cotton bra underneath. His lips left hers and traced a path to her chin, her jaw, down her throat, and finally to her collarbone. He nipped at the skin and she made a strangled sound of pleasure, gripping his shoulders.

Part of her wanted him there and further down, but Merlin the way he had been kissing her like a man possessed, it shot straight to the coiling pressure in her abdomen. She felt wanton, desired. He was worshiping her skin with laves of his tongue and gentle scraping of his teeth and it was setting her on fire.

"Draco," she breathed his name, barely a whisper.

His lips were back on hers, tongue swiping against hers roughly and softly in a pattern she was desperately trying to mimic. Hips pressed into hers, pushing her further into the soft cushions of the couch and she groaned, feeling his hardness against her. Hands tangled in her hair again and she was pulled further into the kiss, arching into his body as he ravished her mouth. She moved the lower half of her body  only slightly and earned a hiss of breath from him. She loved hearing his reactions. It fueled her on to push back against his kiss and rock her hips beneath him.

"Bloody hell." He ripped his lips from hers and ground against her. They both moaned together. "Take off my shirt."

Before she could argue, his lips were against hers again and he was pulling at her jumper. She sat up and allowed him to yank it off of her and she reached for his shirt and tugged it away in seconds. They fell back down to the sofa together, lips acting like oxygen to keep them alive.

They stayed that way for several minutes until Hermione twisted her head to the side and panted. "Draco, you said you weren't going to get into my knickers tonight."

He growled as he dragged his lips across her neck. Whispering words against her skin. "I'm not trying _hard_. We can snog without having to cross that line."

Sometimes she wished that she'd kept her mouth shut. She was slowly starting to come back to her senses. Her hands shoved at his shoulders and he sat  back on his knees. Eyes dark with desire as he watched her lick her lips and scurry out from underneath him. They sat facing each other for a very long moment.

To his benefit, Draco's eyes only dipped to the curve of cleavage once.

"You are utterly irresistible." His eyes were intense, watching every breath she took.

"You are utterly incorrigible." Her eyes studied him just as intently.The planes of his chest were sharp and hard and Hermione felt the desire for him straight to her core.

"Is it so bad that you want me?" Draco asked her with a slight tilt of his head as if he was trying to read her like a book. "You're single, you're beautiful, I'm obviously attracted to you and equally unattached."

"I..." Hermione nursed the corner of her lip and finally dropped her eyes from his. "It's not bad, Draco. It just won't work, will it?"

He watched her fidget with her fingers. Hermione knew that this was only sex for him, but Gods, it would be so much more for her, and she promised herself that she wouldn't. Several times, she'd promised herself that she wouldn't taste the forbidden fruit just because she could. It would only break her heart in the long run.

"You can't know that it won't work," he told her quietly.

"You said that you don't want anything serious," she reminded him.

"Five years ago, Hermione. When we were teenagers still. Can you blame me?" He scooted closer to her. "I've kissed you four times now."

Hermione tried to count them silently. She got to three and gave up. His hand grabbed her hip again and she jolted. She didn't have much resolve left. Not when his eyes were so demanding of her attention and his soft skin was caressing hers. Fighting this was becoming just as painful as ignoring it.

"Don't fight it anymore," he whispered, leaning in to capture another kiss.

Hermione pulled away. "What did you say?"

"I said _don't fight it anymore_ , Hermione." He tried to kiss her again, but she pulled away. "We both want this. I want you."

Warning bells went off in her head. The words he spoke were so close to the ones that she was thinking. It couldn't be, could it? He'd given her the antidote. They were cured. She pushed the thought from her mind.

"Don't over think this." His lips were on hers and he pressed into her. "Please."

The long, breathy 'please' crumbled what was left of her determination. Hermione kissed him again and reached behind her back to unsnap her bra. It fell away as she stood up and pulled Draco with her. His hands were palming her breasts as soon as the cotton fabric was gone and they both moaned into their kiss. Hermione reached for his trousers and had them off within seconds. Then hers were gone. And she was standing in only her underwear and Draco in his boxers.

They met somewhere in the middle. Her hand grabbed his erection while his lips feasted on her hardening nipples. She cried out as he nipped one and then the other. Pleasure shot straight through her and she gripped him harder. He bucked into her hand and made a gravelly noise in the back of his throat that she really liked.

He replaced his mouth with his hands and she was immediately disappointed, having loved the feel of his hot breath against her skin. No sooner had she lamented that loss did he have his mouth on her breast again. She sighed his name and he smiled around her nipple.

She walked forward, advancing on Draco until his knees hit the back of the sofa and he was forced to sit. Straddling his lap, Hermione ground into him and he held her hips so tight while kissing any part of her body he could reach.

"Take off your knickers." He breathed against her skin. "Now."

After scrambling, she had them off and he had his boxers down to his ankles. He pulled her back down to him, but before she could get him positioned at her entrance, there were loud and repetitive thumps against her front door.

"Hermione!"

It was Neville.

"Hermione Damn Granger, open your door now or I swear to Merlin I will bombarda a hole in your wall!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks all the things flying in my direction* Sorry for the delay with this chapter. It was supposed to be out on Wednesday, but (insert valid excuse here). Next one will be up within the week. :) Thank you for all the recs, kudos, comments, etc. on this fic! I appreciate it. <3


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